Star Wars KotOR III: Scars of the Sith
by Krayt-Eagle
Summary: Her words before her fall stung like venom,'Once upon your destination, something will go terribly wrong, even 'you' can’t summon enough Force to stop it. You will survive, of course. The Force won’t let you perish. But your 'friends'...’ ::Kreia
1. PrologueEscaping Malachor V

STAR

WARS

Knights of the Old Republic III;

Scars of the Sith

_CAST_

Ebon Hawk Crew-

LS Male Exile Zenith Renar

Atton Rand

Bao-Dur

Mira

Handmaiden Brianna

Visas Marr

Mandalore/Canderous Ordo

T3-M4

HK-47

--I don't like G0-T0, so I'm pretending the little remote fried his circuits before blowing Malachor into galactic dust—

**Prologue**

Zenith Renar watched with pained expression as his master collapsed at the center of Trayus Core. Kreia was not a Jedi, nor a Sith, she was something less, and something more. She used the Force, but despised it. She killed an uncountable amount of Jedi, and she killed an uncountable amount of Sith. She was a murderer, a teacher, a warrior, a reviver…

…his Master.

And now, she's dead.

Zen wanted to help her, to save her from what seemed like mental instability, but he couldn't. He was too exhausted from the battle. His Force was nearly depleted before he stabbed through Kreia's abdominals, signifying that the battle's end. Stabbing Kreia was the hardest thing he had to do, yet it felt like the weight of a capital ship was lifted off his chest.

Even when death fell upon her, the words that dripped from her mouth stung Zenith like venom.

He closed his eyes, stretching out into the Force, fingering his way through the space around him. Through the crevices in the rocks, through the corridors of the academy, sweeping along the dusted scarred surface of Malachor V….

All life, was no more.

Just an echo.

He killed everyone in that academy without a thought. The Dark Side shrouded those people, and he killed them. Because that's what he does. It's what he's good at.

That's why Zenith needed to find Revan. One of the reasons to find her, at least.

The tiny whiskers that freckled Zen's jaw began to vibrate wildly along with his close crop space black hair. His sore calves weakened as the ground shook under him. He began to feel the cracks dig and widen along the platform. His ears throbbed with the sounds of falling rocks and he tasted dry blood stained on his teeth. The side of his forehead pulsed and ached from being smashed by the butt of Sion's lightsaber. His muscles screeched in agony, and his eyes threatened to explode.

Death fell all around him, mists of dusts clawed threw his hair, and Zen still stared, brows furrowed, eyes polished, gazing down at the stillness of the body that once belonged to his master.

Now, it belonged to Malachor.

Only the great rumble of damaged hyperdrives and creaking metal drove his vision away from the corpse.

The Ebon Hawk hovered ten meters in front of him and between two-three meters high. The hatch was opened, revealing his two friends.

Bao-Dur and Mandalore. Bao-Dur stepped onto the ramp, one hand still clutching the Hawk to keep steady, while the other aided a wound to his side. Mandalore stayed at the top of the ramp, gripping the indents of the corridor. One thing, though, sent a shiver through Zen's spine.

Half of Mandalore's helmet was smashed through, revealing an aged bloodied face of the great Mandolorian, Canderous Ordo.

The two men shouted for him to hurry and jump. Bao-Dur added through their bond that he would aid him if he was too Force drained.

It was then, he remembered, how much hurt he'd taken. Not from the battle between Kreia, but the battle with Sion, and the battle through the Academy, and the battle through Malachor V's surface, and the battle at Telos, and the battle at Dantioone, and the battle at Dxun, and the battle on Korriban, and the battle on Onderon…. The entire Sith War, the entire Mandolorian War…

If it wasn't Malachor, Zen would have stayed there until death enveloped him.

But he had a destiny, he had to find Revan. At that moment, he finally focused and put on his intensity face that all the Ebon Hawk crew knew. He embraced all the Force he could muster out of the dead planet, and Force leapt into the hatch.

In a moment, a hiss signals the sealing of the hatch and the Ebon Hawk launches out of Trayus Core as Malachor V give its last, final breath…

**Chapter 1**

_Escaping Malachor V_

Bao-Dur pulled Zen quickly off the edge of the ramp as he sensed the shadow bomb brings about the final quakes of Malachor V. He pulled the General up half-way of the closing ramp and was immediately assisted by the Mandolorian. In the crash earlier, everyone but Brianna was knocked out cold from the crash. He wasn't sure exactly what the Mandolorian hit that caused to shatter the left half of his helmet and leave a small deep scar between his eyebrows, a black eye, and another scar slice from his cheekbone to his chin. The Zabrak was glad he didn't know. Too many people were banged up when the Hawk fell, and Mandalore was just a reminder of that. He was lucky that Brianna was quick to tend his wounds.

Bao-Dur looked down at his master, more of a friend really, and saw all the wounds he's endured and could feel all of his exhaustion. He felt the large blood clot in Zen's side, felt the throbbing head threaten to explode, he felt the swollen knuckles begging to crack, he felt the pinning numbness of his legs, he felt his heart pulse chaotically…

Bao-Dur almost fell backwards when he attempted to heal him then and there.

The Ebon Hawk shuddered violently, trickles of sweat spurned from the men as the heat in the ship rose.

Mandalore spits blood as he tries to volatize his voice over the cry of Malachor, "What's wrong!"

Bao-Dur responds in his highest even voice, "The General's taken too much wounds for me to heal by myself. Brianna is more suited for this." The head lights above them started to fade and wink out. Zen felt that was Atton's doing, that he was trying to preserve all the power the Ebon Hawk still had. He _hoped_ it was Atton's doing.

Sparks set off of where a light had failed to deplete. More sparks joined that in the cables as the Hawk must have engaged some fallen debris.

After that shutter, Zen and the others heard the high-pitched whirring of their little astromech droid enter the corridor. He buzzed and whirred frantically at Bao-Dur, circular head twirling. Zen's mind couldn't catch a thing the crazed astromech said.

Canderous would've furrowed his eyebrows in irritation if it didn't hurt the infected scar along his forehead. "What's that blasted cylinder saying?"

T3 sounded insulted at the words 'blasted cylinder'.

Bao-Dur looked straight into Canderous' swollen eye. "The cargo hold isn't holding up. I need to keep it together before it's exposed to vacuum. The hyperdrive is beyond overheating, melting nearby safety cables; he needs you to help keep it under standard temperature."

The Mandolorian only nodded. "What about Zen?"

Bao-Dur hesitated. Brianna was already in the cargo hold, trying to keep it together herself, but obviously failing. There was no time to heal the General.

"I'll be fine." Zen managed to wheeze. "Just… make sure we get out of here." He swallowed something hot. Probably blood.

Bao-Dur only managed to open his mouth for protest when another shudder hit the Hawk hard enough to knock T3 off his wheels. Zen heard Atton curse from the cockpit. The Zabrak got on his feet and sprinted to the cargo hold to give the repairs he could. Canderous left Zen to turn the astromech right-side up and they took off to the engine room. More shudders vibrated through the ship, threatening to tear it apart. Zenith managed to use the Force to calm his speeding pulse, and then got up and limped his way to the cockpit. He passed Visas, who was meditating in the communications room. She was trying to use the Force to patch the ship together.

At the cockpit sat cursing Atton and a banged up Mira. Atton steered while Mira kept all systems in check. Through the canopy, he saw that they were flying out of a large rock tunnel that must've been apart of the valley. Green mists began to tickle its way up the edges of the cockpit's vision. Jagged rocks overhead began to entomb them. Zenith saw red lasers form at the top of the canopy, knocking rocks out of their path. Zen reached out and felt HK's mechanisms working happily in the gun turret.

Sparks from a nearby panel snapped Zen from his focus. Though the overhead lights were shut down, the cockpit was filled with computer panel lights flashing and sparks popping out randomly. Most light that was seen from the panels, however, was red.

Zenith felt in waves how tense the crew was becoming. He even began to feel small ripples of fear.

Zen took a deep breath, and calmly sat cross-legged in the center of the cockpit, out of reach from the sparking panels, and closed his eyes.

Through the Force, he searched for the presences of his companions. He felt their strong embers of life all on the ship. For that, he was grateful. He sent out his emotions, emotions of hope, of joy, of victory, of confidence…

…Of life. Something that was lacked on Malachor.

His crew would live another day, no matter what Kreia had said.

Waves of gratitude came from his padawans. Now, Zenith called onto the Force, to become one with it. He let its eddies flow into each and every cell of his body, he let it flow into him; drench him with its energies. He felt his flicker of life burst into a supernova. And, at the moment in which so much Force Will would overwhelm his bodily functions, he let the Force pour outward from him.

Its fingers traveled and grasped every crack and indent in the Ebon Hawk. It stretched out to the computer panels enveloping the cockpit, cooling the systems and subsiding the sparking. It reached Atton and Mira, calmed their tensions and enhanced their senses. The Force stretched even more, reaching the communications room containing Visas. It regenerated her and cooled more over heating systems in the Ebon Hawk. The Force stretched out further, reaching HK-47 in the gun turret. It fingered its way through his circuits, brushing away rust, cooling his systems, enhancing his reaction timing. The Force expanded out, and found the two flickers of life in the cargo hold. It grasped the weakening panels and filled the expanding crevices in the walls. It worked at Bao-Dur's wounds while aiding Brianna, as well. Its fingers crept down the corridors and reached the engine room. Again, it cooled the Ebon Hawk's overheated systems and patched the Hawk together again, holding it firm with its powerful grip. It traveled through Force-blind Canderous Ordo, slowing his pulse, relaxing him, ridding him of the infections in the two scars newly added to his face. It traveled down to his beloved T3 unit, pulling its panels together, venting the little droids heated systems. It filled the cracks that had scarred his modulator, and it spread outward, again…

…In moments, the Ebon Hawk was living up to its name of being the fastest ship in the galaxy.

When Zen opened his eyes, he saw from the view screen the ultimate destruction of the horrid planet Malachor V. If his muscles would allow it, he'd smile.

As the tiny thought finished, Zenith fell into blackness, and passed out.


	2. Recovery

**Dante-Revan**Thanks for your review, it was the first one I've had my entire life, so that makes you special! And thanks for noticing that I worked hard, it's quite difficult coming up with various vocab words. Thanks for the technical advice, too. I'm still trying to figure out how to work this site, but I'm getting better. Gradually.

Hope you like this one, took me a while to type.

**Chapter 2**

_Recovery_

Zenith Renar had just awoken in the med bay.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus. But when they did, he saw the Miraluka sitting closely next to him, laying her hand on top of his. If he could see her eyes, he knew it would be full of relief.

And love. That… was a problem.

"Zenith?" She never called him Zen. "Are you awake, my love?"

He lay still on the bed. He must've slept a long time, for his stomach cried for food and his injuries from Malachor seemed to be recovering. His headache remained, though. He looked down upon himself and noticed he wasn't in his once glimmering Jal Shey Armor he'd retrieved from Dxun. Instead, he wore simple Jedi garments. His pants were loose and black; he possessed no footwear at the moment, and had various shades of black that werefolded around his upper body. The sleeves were thin coated, long, and comfy. The clothing piece even provided a hood. Also, most unique about it, was the vest he wore. Normally, it would be a thick black or mud brown, but this was pure white and had unique symbols on it, possibly a foreign language long forgotten to the galaxy. He then looked around the room, seeking out a difference.

Everything was fine, except for the lighting, for it was dimmed. That was when Zenith started to remember what events had brought him here…

"Zenith, can you hear me?"

Zen felt stupid for a moment by not responding to her first question. "Yes, Visas, I can hear you."

Visas let out a deep breath, and slowly formed a smile. This hurt Zen a lot. Visas thought she loved him, but she only desired him for his defect. His defect in the Force. He didn't love Visas. When the two opened themselves to each other through the Force at Telos, he saw this fact. But Visas wouldn't live if Zen didn't love her back. At the end of all of this, she expected them to be together… walking the beaches of Naboo, running the plains of Dantioone… If he had to tell herthat he had to leave her, leave the galaxy to a place uncharted, to fight another war… to fulfill his destiny… alone… she would be crushed beyond care.

_No,_ he thought, _not _if_ I tell her. _When.

He didn't want to deal with this pain of attachment. That's why, long ago, he accepted the sentence of exile gratefully.

"Where are we, how long have I slept?"

She smiled warmly at him, grasping his hand a little tighter. "We are coordinated to the Citadel Station on Telos. We're in hyperspace now. Atton says we should be there in less than a standard hour. We've been traveling for 43 hours since you fell asleep."

On the inside, Zen snorted when Visas said '_fell_ asleep'. He couldn't remember exactly what happened, but he did know that he didn't crawl to his bed, grab his stuff bantha, pull the blanket to his chin, suck his thumb and 'fall' asleep. He still felt the vibration of when his skull hit the solid floor of the Ebon Hawk's… cockpit? _Yeah,_ he thought, _it was the cockpit._

Zen tried to get up, but his muscles and tendons protested immediately. Visas pushed him back down, used the Force to ease his pain. "Please, my love. Lay still. You need time to recover." She grabbed a med pack and injected the serum into his thigh to relax a convulsive muscle. "And now, we have plenty of time."

In the softest of a voice that even the Miraluka couldn't hear, he said, "You have no idea." No one had any idea of what would happen. Kreia had told him. She had told him of the fate of his crew once they arrived at Telos. Something would go terribly wrong, but he didn't know what. _'Once upon your destination, something will go terribly wrong, even _you_ can't summon enough Force to stop it. You will survive, of course. The Force won't let you perish. But you _friends_...' _Kreia had said that one would… no. No one. Zenith was determined to take no loses. Despite what Kreia had foresaw. His crew had worked too hard and too long to die on their return home. He would loose _no one._

"Where is…" He was going to say the Handmaiden, but thought better of it. "…Everyone?"

She noticed his hesitation, but made nothing of it. "Your pilot's at the cockpit. The Zabrak is on his break from continuous inspections of the ship. The Mandalorian… we're trying to get him to lie down and recover from his facial wound, but he follows the tiny droid around, assisting with repairs, when he can. They seemed to have formed a bond, for two personalities terribly different. The battle droid is… itself." Zen winced at that. He never thought of HK as an 'it'. Visas missed his wince, though, for she looked down and drew lightly on the creases of Zen's fingers, carefully avoiding the few cuts that still remained.

"The bounty hunter," she continued. She paused, though; he sensed she sought Mira through the Force. "Is at the cockpit, also. Irritating our pilot." Zen smiled at that. Mira was always good at bugging Atton. She was 2nd to T3. Visas, looking down shyly, expressed a slight grin. It was nice that the woman was finally getting a little humor into herself. But he noticed that Visas forgot someone else.

"What about Brianna? Where is she?"

Visas stopped drawing on his hand and hesitated. "Who?"

_Who?_ Zen was shocked that Visas never figured out the Handmaidens name. "Brianna, the Handmaiden. You never said where she was."

"Oh, of course. The Handmaiden." Visas responded with no emotion, "She's resting, lending a hand when she can. She's already recovered from the minor wounds she's sustained." Visas didn't mention that Brianna mostly lent her hand to healing Zenith while Visas meditated her Force power on aiding the Hawk's travel through hyperspace. She thought that as knowledge that Zenith didn't need to know.

Seeing as how she fell quiet, Zen asked, "Visas, why don't you call people by their names?"

Zen saw how obviously she was caught off guard. "I mean," he added, "you don't go around calling me exile. But you call Bao-Dur a Zabrak, you call Mandalore a Mandolorian or The Warrior, you call Mira a bounty hunter, you call Atton the pilot, and so on. I'm just wondering why. Do you have a hard time remembering names or something?"

She struggled for a moment her face gazing at his. "N-no… not really… I just… that's how my people talk to those… that are different."

"Aren't I different?" Zen just had to ask.

Visas didn't budge as when she answered. "Yes, you are different. And you're special."

"And the others are not?" Zen protested. He knew his questions and knew he wouldn't get full answers from Visas. This whole time, it seemed she had held a prejudice against everyone else… not trusting anyone else's skills but his and her own.

Visas held her facial stare at him, and then realization came in little ripples to him through the Force. "I see, Zenith." He waited for her answer. "This is a little Jedi test, and I've failed miserably." Little or no answer, just what he expected from Visas after their journey. He watched her as she slowly stood up. "I must go and meditate. The ship is still unstable from…" _Malachor _"…recent events." _Bless her,_ Zen thought, _for not saying that horrid name._

She bent down and kissed his cheek. She would've done the lips, but they were cut. So, she would've done the forehead, but it was still swollen from the blow Sion had given him. The safest place to touch him without giving harm was his cheek. At least, she thought it was. The fact that she kissed him felt like a stab in the gut to Zen.

_I just don't love her, and I don't have the heart to tell her._

He left that thought concealed, as most of the thoughts going through his head are. Visas had left the room, so he leaned back and closed his eyes again. Only for a moment, though, because he felt a familiar presence at the door. He slowly opened his eyes and leaned his head up from his pillow. Brianna stood, leaning on the door, giving him a warm smile of greeting. He gladly smiled back.

Visas had to work hard to even get the tiniest smile on his face. All Brianna had to do was stand their and look at him. She was about to make a topic to discuss, which would probably turn into an extensive conversation that would last from 2-3 hours or so. That's the average length of their conversations. But then, he felt it, a disturbance in the Force…

_Oh, no… _Zen thought, _Its happening. Just like Kreia said. I have to stop it. I have to—_

The ground shudders under their feet and they hear metal tearing off of the exterior of the ship.

From the cockpit, Atton's voice yells, "We lost something!"

Zen gets up and is behind Brianna by the time him and the entire crew crowd into the cockpit. Bao-Dur was the first to get there. "What do you mean we lost something? We're in hyperspace, what did we hit?"

"Nothing…" Atton worked frantically at the controls. "I think." Mira mimicked him on the right side of the cockpit. "Check the readouts." He added.

Mira read off a data screen to the side of her as we heard more metal creaking tear off the crippled Hawk. "You're right, we lost something. Big. The panels along the ion engines are weak and loose. That explains the noise. It's a blasted miracle they've stayed attached this long. And our port stabilizers were ripped off, which makes our landing capabilities a _wee_ bit tougher." All faces went tense.

Bao-Dur read off another data screen close beside him. "The engine's leaking, also."

Brianna spoke, hiding any signs of fear. "Well that doesn't matter, does it? We're getting out of hyperspace in half a minute."

Bao-Dur turns from the screen and looks out to the canopy at the stars flashing by. "_If _the ship wasn't thrown off course."

"_If_?" Reminders of what Kreia had told Zen at the Trayus Core spun through his head. They were in serious trouble.

Mira, for a moment, leaned back from the controls. "Oh, c'mon, guys. You're the most negative thinking Jedi I've ever met!" Atton leaned over to the hyperspace switch. "What are you doing?"

"Getting a jumpstart out of a situation we don't want to be in, what else?" Atton responded. Mira protested, "But if we exit now, Citadel would only be a speck from our view port!" Atton ignored her, he got used to doing that recently. But her protest brought others from his companions. Soon, everyone was either offending or defending him. Atton, though annoyed, showed a lot less fear at the moment compared to how Zen felt. _Something's wrong! _Zenith searched drastically through the Force, trying to find the fault…

"—safer if we exit hyperspace now because we can give off a flare, signaling we need help." Bao-Dur said.

"I checked the cargo hold; we do have three flares ready to fire up if needed." Mandalore added. His scars stood out vividly now that he'd finally displaced his helmet. Bao-Dur nodded. He and the Mandolorian started getting along after dragging the General onto the ship. He turned to Atton and said, "Do it."

Atton slowly pulled the switch back, and leaned back in his chair to watch Telos appear in the canopy.

It didn't. They were still in hyperspace.

"Atton, I said do it!"

Zen found the flaw. "The hyperdrive." He muttered.

"I did! I did do it!" Atton reaches for the hyperdrive switch another time, pushes it back up, and pulls it back down again. The lines of stars only zigzagged when the ship shuddered. "I-It's not my fault!"

Zen raced to the back unnoticed by everyone but the astromech droid. Mira bit her lip. "Atton! If you don't drop out of hyperspace in 17 seconds, our atoms are going to be spread throughout the galaxy longer than the Corellian Trade Spine!"

Atton's hands began to sweat with Mira's comment. "It's not my fault! I swear! We must've lost more in hyperspace then that cursed data pad says! Check it again!" Atton works at the controls making adjustments, trying to escape death. Bao-Dur read the charts hastily again, so did Mira. "Uh-oh…" were the words that escaped her mouth.

"You were right." Bao-Dur turned and sprinted down the corridor. "We did loose something else." The rest of the crew could only stand and watch as their fates were decided on their companions.

At the back of the dark, sparking engine room, T3 found his Master. Zenith was gathering fallen cables and placing them in and out of the hyperdrive. He was changing its power source, and making a very large mess of it along the floor, so T3 couldn't assist. Then another shudder shook the ship as Atton tried to exit hyperspace. With that, sparks blew from the hyperdrive, and its lighting glow went out. "Sith's blood!" Zenith cursed.

"6 seconds, Atton! Do something!" Mira's voice was frantic.

Fast footsteps grew louder behind T3. "General!" 5… 4…

T3 saw his master pause exactly 2.67 seconds after being called before reaching his arm out to the little droid. T3 found himself being propelled forcefully off the floor and landed somehow on his mechanical little legs above the cluttered thick cables. He whirred a complaint for his masterfor using the Force on him like that.

3… 2…

"Zap it!" He was pointing to the hyperdrive. "Zap it now! With everything you got!"

1…

His master began to run out of the room. Before T3 could give a question, he saw his master turn Bao-Dur around from entering the engine room and made him sprint back to the cockpit. He shouted. "NOW OR NEVER, T3!"

…0

It was now, and T3 popped a zap blaster out of his cylinder-like head and sent voltages into the core of the hyperdrive. The shock flew the droid backwards out of the room and screeched while electric bolts shot throughout the area. The energy the little weapon caused brought power back momentarily to the hyperdrive. More and more vigorous shuddering went throughout the Ebon Hawk. The droid whirred frantically as it tried to get back on its wheels.

Both Zen and Bao-Dur were thrown off their feet in the main room, but pure will and Force push got Zen to the cockpit in time the see them exit hyperspace. Looking out the canopy, though, his jaw fell in line with the rest of the crew.

12 meters from their face, stood Admiral Carth Onasi, staring just as shocked from his office window of his TSF Capital building. They exited hyperspace just shy of blowing right through Citadel Station. Now 9 meters separated them from crashing into the Admiral that was known to keep the Republic from crumble.

"Pull up, Atton!" Zenith shouted, panic boiling . "Pull up!"


	3. The Ebon Hawk's Last Flight

Ok, if you're at all suspicious as to how I'm updating so quickly, it's because I've already typed a few chapters before posting it. Plus, I'm hoping for reviews and I'd say this is my most favorite chapter so far. So, grab some popcorn and enjoy.

**Chapter 3**

_The Ebon Hawk's Last Flight_

"BLAST IT!" Atton shouted as he yanked at the Hawk's controls. Zenith held onto the back of his chair to keep from falling, but the rest of those who were standing weren't so lucky. The last he saw of Admiral Onasi was of him being pushed out of the room by another general, and then the nose of the Hawk pointed upward, showing the lines of traffic above the station. Zen closed his eyes and used the Force as best he could to hold the ship together. He felt the Force presence of Bao-Dur trying to maintain the ship, as well.

The Ebon Hawk creaked and rumbled in protest when Atton jerked it away from the now frenzied fleeing lanes of traffic. Mira worked on the right of the cockpit, trying to stabilize the ship's various systems. She needed to use the Force to just stay in her seat. Mandalore ran out of the cockpit when he heard the T3 unit yell for him. HK retreated to the back for his own reasons, and Brianna sprinted to the crippled cargo hold. Visas went with her.

Warning alarms deafened the cockpit. Zen held onto Atton's chair, sparks shot from the ceiling as Atton made another juke to avoid oncoming building structures and transport lanes. Atton stopped cursing, Zen noticed. In fact, he'd closed his eyes. Zenith would have blasted him with his pistol if he didn't sense him using the Force to fly the ship. He also felt Atton combine and mold his powers with the Zabrak. Zen saw this idea as brilliant, then he reached out through the Force more, he felt Mira, and urged her to join Atton's and Bao-Dur's mind meld. At first, Mira was reluctant, but did so when he gave her another Force nudge.

He felt the aura of the Force immediately strengthen within all of them. The shudders of the ship slowed, and Atton's flying became a bit more graceful. But still, many key systems were failing or had disintegrated once out of hyperspace. Like it had Sion, only the Force was holding the Hawk together.

Then, as soon as it had started, their meld began to weaken, to exhaust. They were still young learners to the Force, Zen had to remember. The rumbles in the ship began to grow.

Zen felt Brianna join the meld, and then he felt Visas join with her. Now it was his turn. He let his mind finger its way outward to the others, its massive hand linking with theirs, then molding into each other. Their bond grew more powerful with his touch. Their combined Force power reached outward and devoured the Ebon Hawk, holding it firmly in its grip.

Zen thought through the Force. _Atton, fly the ship down to Telos' surface, we risk too much if we land on the station._

Atton, at first, stuttered, when he heard Zen's thoughts flow to him, but obeyed nonetheless. Those connected in the bond strained their hold on the ship as Atton flew up and around the remainder of the buildings at the edges of the station. At last, at the very edge of the station, was the powered generator that isolated the damaged scars of Telos from the rest of its beauty. It stood 30 stories high, so Atton had to crane the ship upward to make it over and out, down to the planet below.

The sudden pull aloft, though, dramatized the Hawk's systems, and even with their Force bond, they couldn't control the ship's systems from overheating again. The panels began to give off sparks. Prickles began to rise on Zen's neck when he felt his danger sense.

_Atton!_

As Atton corkscrewed over the edge of the power generator, he wanted to holler a victorious cheer. Instead, he hollered in tremendous pain as sparks bloomed from the panel in front of him, burning his hands and forearms.

The sudden pain went through everyone attached to the bond. Bao-Dur fell to the floor in agony, Mira gripped her arms and screamed in her co-pilot seat, he felt both Brianna and Visas suffer Atton's pain in their own ways, and he, himself, felt as if he shaved his arms off with a vibro-blade. He only let out a wince, for he knew they'd be in worse pain if they didn't do anything soon.

He pulled Atton quickly and as easily as he could out of the pilot's seat. The temperature in the ship rose as every system went red. The Hawk was falling to Telos' surface like an asteroid. Red embers formed at the view port as the ship entered the atmosphere. Pieces of the Hawk began to erode off into nothingness at the skyline. After many moments, Zen felt the Jedi regain themselves after Atton's sudden pain. Mira got out of her seat and aided Atton to the main room. Bao-Dur was about to take place of Mira, but Zen's commanding voice stopped him.

"Get everyone back to the main room! Hold the ship together as best you can! Brace yourselves for a crash."

"But, Gener-"

"GO!" Zenith added the Force to vocalize his voice. They'd be safe there, he foresaw. They'd be safe there from whatever foresights Kreia had seen of their future.

Zen's demanding tone hurt the Zabrak for a moment, but he obeyed. Through his bond with the general, he felt Zen tell him, _'Get all the others into the main room, also. Don't let them protest against it.' _Sensing Bao-Dur's disapproval in the General's game plan, he added,_ 'Please, just do it, Bao-Dur.' _Bao-Dur didn't know what the General was planning, but something felt wrong in the Force. He didn't know what he was feeling for he never felt it before. It felt like a silent cry of agony, like finding a crying baby in a dark corner on Coruscant. You see every tear crawl down the tiny face, but you can't wipe them away. All you can do is watch and listen. And that feeling only grew when he reached Visas and Brianna in the cargo hold, gripping the tiles to keep steady on the ground.

"Come!" he shouted, "Into the main hold! General's orders!" When he said 'hold', the ship began to shudder and rumble. It began to grow and grow as the three sprinted and tumbled into the corridors. The rumbling didn't stop, so they got onto the floor and crawled on elbows and knees to the center of the room.

Visas looked around. Mandalore was there, he had reopened the scar on the side of his face, and it was bleeding again. She felt the droids presences locked safely in the storage hold. The bounty hunter tended the wounds of their pained pilot who currently laid before the chair. The Zabrak lay low near Brianna, whose eyes drifted down to the corridor, toward the cockpit.

Toward her love.

Immediately, she got up and ran for the cockpit, despite the protests of the quaking ship and Bao-Dur. She kept going, and was suddenly rammed into the side of the corridor by… Zenith. He yelled at her to go back, to stay away from him. To go into the main hold and be safe.

"No, never, my love!" She yelled back, she used her own Force strength to break his grip. Then, she said something that was all too familiar to him. "My life… for yours." She gripped the edge of the co-pilots seat, she felt fear tingle throughout Zen, and she looked out of the view port.

They were less then a kilometer from the ground, and enclosing. Fast.

_Very _fast.

It sounded as if every scrap of metal on the ship debated as the combination of Zen's front instruments and his Force Will pulled the ship up from his downward slope. He couldn't slow the ship down because its repulsors had been damaged beyond repair when entering the atmosphere. Through their bond, he begged Visas to go back.

'_My life, for yours.' _She repeated. This was killing Zen, so he demanded, yelled at her to go back. This only drew her closer, and this time, she sat in the co-pilots seat.

Swelling on the left of the canopy was the force shield separating the bombarded Telos from the spared one. Zenith grew successful as to slowly paralleling the ship from the ground, but gradually, the ship was enclosing closer and closer as it flew along side the force shield, nearly skidding it. The Ebon Hawk wasn't slowing down, and their landing would be rough, for the landscape was bumpy.

Closer and closer, Zenith could actually hear the energy of the force barrier. Again, he shouted forcefully at Visas, telling her she'd die if she stayed with him. It wasn't a threat, it was fact. Visas' reply was solidly strong, "My love, I will never leave your side. I will be with you, from the darkest of times to the lightest." She made an oath, and he hated that. He absolutely hated that. He hated it even more when he had to Force push her off the chair and down the hall as much as he could. It made him feel horrible. Thinking that she was gone and safe, he focused on slowing the ship, all focus fell into the Force away from distractions. But not completely, for he felt someone grasp his shoulder…

He lost his concentration and looked at the owner of the hand. "Visas?"

Precisely at that moment, a great metal tear rang through his ears as the cargo hold came in contact with the force shield. It ripped a hole in the hull, and the noise was excruciating. The Hawk instantly broke into an uncontrollable spin along the wall of energy and then spun off to hit the plains below.

Zen felt the wind like a Tatioone sandstorm grinding his face. Bolts of electricity overwhelmed his nervous system. He saw Visas go head smack into the wall, but the thud was drained out by the wind blasting through the interior of the ship. He heard metal bending in ways it wasn't supposed to bend, he heard and felt the sharp jolts of electricity blow nearby circuits and heard cries from his companions in the main hold. His stomach grew nauseous looking out at the spinning view port. He couldn't feel his hands as they flew over unresponsive controls. He felt the ending of a life, the pain of his friends…

The death of the Ebon Hawk.

With that last thought, Zenith was thrown out of his seat when the crippled ship finally hit land.

The Ebon Hawk crashed directly into the slope, shaving 3 meters off the ground as it skidded and spun along the once grassy fields. The sounds coming from the ship were deafening, and smoke leaked from the heated hull. Because of momentum, the ship kept going, suffering only more damage, and traumatizing the crew within its shell.

After creating a 110 meter road of burnt blackened soil along the plains of Telos, the scorched skeleton of the Ebon Hawk finally slowed to a long, creaking halt, entombing itself in dark exhaust fumes.

TSF Rescue ships rained down from the sky toward the newly smoked land. These ships all witnessed the final flight of the dying ship. On one of those rescue ships was the former owner of the Ebon Hawk.

Admiral Carth Onasi had never seen something so disturbing in his life.

----

-Sorry that the dialog for Visas was so bad, I just never could get her character.

-R&R please! Last time I checked, this story had 53 hits and, unfortunetly, I think I made about 47 of them.


	4. Search for Survivors

Hey, thanks for the reviews! I'm ahappy Nut now.

So happy in fact, that I decided to look over my 4th chapterand post it on here. Thanks for the advice youpeople have given me, too. A few surprises are instore for you guys in the next upcoming chapters. But, of course, my stamina meds are wearing off, so those next few chapters will come at a slower pace.

Anyways, hope you like this one. HK's in it.

**Chapter 4**

_Search for Survivors_

"Observation; It seems that the Ebon Hawk has experienced a few… malfunctions." HK told the little blabbering T3 unit.

The two droids were locked in the Storage Compartment. Though a little banged up from the crash, they were still in decent condition. The power was out, so the only light was an occasional tiny ember secreted from overheated cables. Otherwise, HK-47 and T3-M4 used their night vision optical sensors to see each other.

"Beeree, de?" T3 beeped.

"Answer; Yes, I am 99 percent sure we crashed."

T3 buzzed a question.

"The other 1 percent is that we droids died and went to the little land far away where all droid's memory core spirits go and live happily ever after." He stated quickly.

T3 whirred annoyingly, turned around and checked the little surroundings they had.

"Query; Yes, little cylinder, you are right. This is _not_ a place to live happily ever after."

"WRRREE! Wooboodo dooo DO!"

"Confused Statement; But I've always thought of you as a little cylinder."

T3's head twirled angrily, and his legs extended and lowered, as if trying to make himself taller. "Wooowii. Boodo burrri ooo dooop."

HK straightened himself as he took in the droids words. "Amused Statement; So, you'd rather I give you another nickname, do you?"

T3 whistled and bobbed up and down once.

HK pauses, as if to think. "Minor Threat; Oh, I got one. How about 'Moving Target'? Oh! I like that."

T3 buzzed and whirrs frantically while HK slowly advances to it. "Dwee, DWEEEE!"

"Observation; Ah, I see. So, you want to keep your original nickname, correct?"

"De."

"Well then, of course, 'little cylinder'. If you insist." HK-47 turned from the droid. If it was in his programming, HK would've had an amused smile on his plasteel face right about now.

The 'little cylinder' didn't like his new roommate at the moment, so turned away from HK and started fixing a panel on the wall that went loose. It wasn't really going to make a difference to the ship, really, but it was something to do until his master unlocked the storage room door. But the more the T3 unit thinks about what happened, the more his inner mechanisms shiver.

He heard the horrible roar of wind blast its way into the ship. He felt the Ebon Hawk's 12 3/8th rotations it experienced once connecting to a large power fuse of some sort. He heard the yells and screams and thudding of objects and bodies in the main hold during the ship's twirl. He saw from his technical skills that no power would be coming through the Ebon Hawk anytime soon. He was also on the ceiling, which seemed to be awkward. And he felt the sudden silence when everything stopped…

…Until it was disturbed HK-47's 'observation'.

But he couldn't help it, his master was out there, helpless, and he was stuck in here, making repairs that may never be needed.

No, not master. _Masters_. He still hasn't completed his last mission from Revan.

"Question; Did you hear that?"

T3 buzzed a question of confusion at him.

"Environmental Identification Systems, Online." HK stated flatly. T3 knew it was best to be quiet, for if the little droid disturbed him, HK might put his Assassination Protocols online, as well.

_Thud._

"Dwee! DEEET!" T3 buzzed and buzzed as he twirled his head. Someone was alive!

"Confident Statement; See? I told you they'd come and get us."

T3 whistled a 'yeah, right'.

Carth Onasi led one of the 3 rescue squads over to the Ebon Hawk.

The ship was upside down and a little slanted for being on a slope. Fumes still spewed from the ship, but it wasn't engulfed as it was 10 minutes ago when it 'landed'. Three med ships surrounded the landing zone of the Ebon Hawk. Security patrols did flybys over and around the crashed area, but they weren't able to disconnect all the little holocams flying around trying to capture the scene. Two other ships descended to the landing area with supplies to breach the broken Hawk.

Carth, holding a force pike, stood by the downed Hawk and gave orders to the half dozen men he led. "Your objective is to breach the ship and search for survivors. Alert either me or the med staff if you find one. And…" Carth hesitated with his next choice of words. "Remember where you left the dead. We want to find the living first." Each squad member nodded.

Carth pointed to four people. "Link," a dark haired human, "Li'nati," a green male Twi'lek, "Corta," a dark skinned human, "and Quinn" a blue furred squib, "Come with me. And you two," pointing at the two larger twin humans, "Work on finding, or making, another entrance into the ship." The two squad mates nodded their heads and went off to the dented, scorched head of the ship. "Climb." He gave the order firmly as he lifted himself off the ground to stand atop the old ship.

He wasn't climbing too gracefully, for he knew who was inside. Or, at least, who _could_ be inside.

He made a large _thud_ before reaching the top. But, for a moment, he thought he heard something… a beep, or a whirr, from inside the ship…

He shook his head. _No distractions, Onasi. _He kept moving. Reaching the top, he stood and scanned the scars draping the Hawk's hull before him. It really hurt to see what this ship's been through. What the people _inside_ of this ship had been through. That just reminded him to move faster.

He paced over to the right starboard of the Ebon Hawk and found creases as to where the ramp should be. Even after 5 years, he still remembered this ship as if it were his name. He scouted for the opening crevice, found it, and stuck the edge of his pike in it. "Pry!" The others joined him, each sticking their pike in one at a time, adding their strength to the Admiral's.

If they kept this up for about two hours, the ramp might open. But they didn't have two hours.

And neither did the crew inside.

Bao-Dur's head felt like a thermal detonator blew up each time it throbbed. His vision was dim and refused focus. His ears pinged and pulsed off beat with his head. His knee had popped out of his socket, and his insides felt swollen, as if he just ate a Hutt and was now experiencing the side-effects.

He tried to crawl up, he even embraced the Force, but sudden pain zapped through Bao-Dur's real shoulder, and he fell back down. It was hard to breath. The air had a tint of engine exhaust to it, and his ribs hurt with movement.

"…General?..." The words clawed his throat.

No response.

He thought he saw figures, _friends_ lying still in front of him, but his eyes wouldn't adjust to the darkness, nor would it focus. He looked at his prosthetic hand and saw two of them. The throbbing in his head continued. He cupped his hands around the pain, as if that could ease the vibrations.

_Is this it? _He thought, _is this how I'm going to die?_

His throbs in his ears finally subsided. He lay there, on the floor for a moment, but then noticed he wasn't on the floor.

He was on the ceiling.

That shocked him, for he didn't know what to make of it. Then, the noise in his ears came back again. So Bao-Dur covered his ears, praying to make the pain go away so he can die peacefully.

He covered his ears, and the sound was gone.

_What? _He thought. He uncovered his ears.

The sound came back.

_It's… _The Zabrak stretched out into the Force, and felt 6 little embers of light above him. _… It's from the outside!_

Hope spurred through him, giving him newly founded energy. He felt what they were doing, they were trying to pry open the ramp as an entrance into the Hawk. To rescue the crew inside. _Maybe, _Bao-Dur thought, _maybe I'll live another day. Maybe we all will._

With his prosthetic arm, he reached for his double-bladed lightsaber and ignited it. The thudding noise atop the ship hushed at the _snap-hiss_ sound. Bao-Dur used all his energy and all his Force power to stand on his feet. The brilliant orange glow of his lightsaber burned his eyes, but it was a burn he was willing to take.

He took few tiny steps to where he found the ramp hanging above him. No cracks of light shone through, proving that the rescue squad made no progress.

With muscles screaming in protest, Bao-Dur reached high, putting his lightsaber through the hull. Tendons roared as he slowly cut a circle through dense durasteel.

His mouth went dry as he held his head up to watch his cutting. Bao-Dur was half-way done, now. Tiny globs of melted durasteel dripped around him.

Bao-Dur bit his tong._ Almost there…_

His arms went numb as his blood flow slowed and his arteries clogged for having his arms held high for too long. Then, he saw a large, bright circle of the Ebon Hawk's melted hull, sliding down and coming out of place.

Bao-Dur took a step back from where the durasteel would fall.

A loud _clank_ rattled the Zabrak's eardrums as it echoed throughout the dead ship. The light that poured from the Telosian day nearly blinded him. But then, he saw a humanoid figure, standing dark in contrast to the sun, looking down at him in wonder…

"Admiral Onasi! We have a survivor!" The figure yelled. The man wasn't human, as far as the Zabrak could tell. More heads popped from the hole, but before Bao-Dur could focus his gaze, all energy left him, and he fell backwards, eyes rolling back, fading into darkness…

"We need a medic!" A deep, male voice yelled after seeing Bao-Dur pass out. "Get the rest of the squads over here!"

---

-Hoped you liked it.

-I have a question about T3. Towards the end of the game, if you have enough computer skills and repair skills, you can fully fix T3. I think he had a message inside of him about Revan, but I never was able to finish the last repair. If you fixed T3 in the game and saw what he had stored, could you tell me what it was? It could be helpful to my story.

Thanks in advance.


	5. Three Days Later

This one was a little more difficult to type because it's from Carth's POV, and we all know how confusing his logic works. So please bear with me, for I tried my best. And thanks to everyone who reviewed!

**Chapter 5**

_Three Days Later_

Carth Onasi stood in the Med Center gazing helplessly at the Ebon Hawk's crew.

The only reason why any of the crew lived this long was because of that Zabrak, who was able to clear aopening in the hull of his old ship. _Well, not _every _crew member, _the Admiral thought, _there was one causality._

Three days earlier, around mid-day, Carth had had a private meeting with a few close co-workers of the Republic, like Lt. Grenn, or Admiral Dodonna when she was free. They gathered into his private quarters, where no one could eavesdrop. They discussed the problems the Republic had currently faced, a topic which could never waver, unfortunately. They'd converse and come up with their own conclusions, for the Senate only spoke actions for years before actually doing something. But every conclusion would be the same. The Republic needed the Jedi. Period. That's why there was so much trouble given in trying to locate the exile and to bring him back from the outer rim.

In that, though, the exile managed to escape their grasp without even knowing it.

Carth thought that was for the better.

Peragus became a serious problem after its destruction, but an aid came from an unexpected source, Nar Shadaa. At first, Carth though it was a scam, but then the Hutt explained in the great manners of his that he had a deal with some off-worlder to send fuel to Telos if he had gotten rid of a thorn at the slug's side. Theoretically speaking, of course. This roused his suspicions, as to who in the galaxy would do this? Then, the consistent problems on Khoonda died down. The Administrator had said a fellow Jedi came to aid the minor but infective wounds it's endured during the war. He even helped fight against the mercenaries, who plotted to take over Khoonda. A week after that, their old Republic spy and Mandalorian War survivor finally came back from his mission on Onderon, telling precious but disturbing information at how unstable the community was. When Lt. Grenn asked him how he got back from the planet, the man said he had help from an old _Jedi_ he knew during the wars. Before the Republic could dispatch a fleet to Onderon, however, Telos was attacked. Citadel Station would've crashed right into the planet if it wasn't for some _Jedi_ who arrived in time to lend a hand to the Khoonda militia and TSF forces. After the destruction of the Ravager, the Admiral was finally able to settle down and talk with this Jedi.

That exile was a walking miracle, for Carth never thought he'd make it back from Malachor alive.

But if Zenith Renar stayed in his current state, Carth's first thought may be right.

Anyways, after discussing the issues the Republic currently dealt with, their conversation drifted off. With the hope now given to them by the thought of the exile's redemption and his great help to the Republic, they began to speak of Revan… his love.

That's why Carth left to gaze out of his window in distress. It hurt to talk about hope of Revan coming back. She's been out _there_ for five years, alone and fighting. And it was her choice.

No one but his son and the old crew had known of his feelings for Revan, so they never spoke of the topic openly in front of him. He was grateful for that. But when his private committee spoke of her and their hope of her return, it felt as if someone was sucking the air out of the room to Carth. Slowly and gradually killing him, for these were hopes that were bottled up inside him for 4 years and were now being discussed in debate form for his ears to hear.

At that time, Carth's hope began to erode like sand dunes in a desert wind. His dune was almost flattened when he gazed out into the stars again. But it wasn't the stars he was looking at.

It was the eye of the Ebon Hawk that stared right back at him.

Everything after that was such a blur. So much chaos was summoned when the Hawk jumped out of hyperspace. Its rapid decent, though, was indescribable. The efforts given by the pilot were tremendous, but all were in vain at the moment the Force Field came in contact with the hull, tarring a whole open in the cargo hold. The rescue teams would've used that hole to breach the ship if it hadn't caved in.

Walking the inside of the dead Hawk was still vivid in his mind, regrettably.

All its inner systems were crushed and scattered, either nearly or completely irreparable. Scorch marks had stained its surface, and so did some blood. The condition they found the crew members in was like looking at the punishments from hell. Every one of them was in critical condition. Except for one, who died at landing.

All were rushed into the ER. Their crash was shown among the HoloNet, without the consent of the TSF. It still aired its dramatic fall and how most crew members had survived.

They'd jinx that, for all Carth knew.

Now Carth looked through the glass window, separating him from the six bacta tanks on the other side. Each of them had been in the tank for hours, only being released for other treatment and a refill of bacta. The exile's been in the longest.

_He's floated there for fourteen hours straight. _Carth thought, irritated, _And still no difference!_

As if to debate that fact, one of the companions of the exile jerked.

"…Kurn?" Carth called the doctor.

"Mira, a comrade of the Jedi. She suffered less then the others; she was expected to awake sometime soon. I'll get a team onto her right away." Doctor Kurn, a tall thick human with sunken eyes, worked at the terminal near Carth, and in a moment, Mira was gracefully elevated from the tank. But not before she saw the state of her companions.

"I want to speak with her." The Admiral stated.

"She will be ready to speak with others in the next 24 hours, Admiral. No sooner." The Doctor pointed back, a bit annoyed. Carth had to understand him for that. He was the best doctor on this station, and was given six patients all in critical condition and nearing death. He's been working ever since the patients arrived, giving himself no breaks, for when one symptom of one patient was stabilized, one or two of another might experience bodily failure problems.

"Then I'll be back tomorrow, sixteen-hundred hours," Carth said, and spun on his boot to leave the room. "Sharp."

--

It was three hours before the shifts of the TSF security night force took over in patrolling the station. Carth Onasi was making his way into the Med Center to speak with the ex-bounty hunter within her recovery quarters. His movement was like that of every Admiral who moved with intention, except he couldn't keep his hands from fidgeting.

_What am I supposed to say?_ He debated with himself. _Does she even know anything? She's a Jedi, according to Quinn, who found her occupying a lightsaber on the ship. But that doesn't mean anything… it could have been someone else's. But if it wasn't… she could use her Jedi tricks on my mind and do Force knows what… I don't even know if she's on our side, for man's sake! Plus, she's a bounty hunter…_

Carth had to force himself to stop thinking this way once he reached the door to his destination. Mira would be on the other side. Unless…

_STOP thinking, Onasi! _He mentally yelled at himself.

His hand reached up to the opening seal next to the door. As bright green light ran across his hand for identification, he thought to himself, _I wish Bastila had come along. She was good at this sort of thing._

A quick hiss of the door signified its opening. Carth looked beyond the door into the room decorated from floor to ceiling in white painted panels and med supplies. The only thing that stained the scene was the patient's vibrant red hair. He slowly, respectfully took a step inside the room as the door closed behind him.

Mira's head perked up from her standard sitting position on the bed, revealing the few recovering scratches and scars she received from her decent into Telos. According to Kurn, though, not _all _of the scars were the ones she's received from her landing. Mira gave no intention of speaking, and only stared at the Admiral from head to toe with wary eyes.

_This isn't going to be easy… _Carth figured as he walked over to the left side of her bed. "I'm Admiral Carth Onasi, of the Republic, and am a supervisor of the Telos Restoration Project. We haven't formally met." Raising his hand outward, he waited to shake hers.

And waited, and waited.

_I was right. _He thought._ This is DEFINITELY not going to be easy._

He retreated his right hand, running it through his hair while feeling horribly self-conscious when he looked back at the woman. To his surprise, she gave a slight smile, and looked towards the door as she pulled her hair back, revealing her crippled ear. A metal earpiece was pressed inside of it, but it looked more like a painkiller then a listener's aid. "Kurn's not one to talk about his patient's conditions, he tells me. I guess I believe him, now. I probably shouldn't have made those threats to him about ripping his tong out if he let word spread to anyone interested in my bounty." She let her hair fall back to conceal her ear. "I hope you weren't saying anything important."

Carth feltuncomfortable as a slave would in a Hutt's lap. He began to make his way around the bed. He could feel her stare boar into him as he walked around the seemingly increasing length of the bed. He made a mental note to ask Kurn of his patients' conditions before actually visiting them. "Can you hear me now?"

She nodded.

"Good. Um…" Carth didn't feel as collective as he was portrayed to be. "I'm Carth Onasi, an Admiral of the Republic. You're at the TSF General Hospital, on Citadel Station above Telos, in case you haven't been informed."

"I have." She stated. Carth looked at her, expecting her to say more, but she didn't.

He felt worse. "Uh… do you remember what happened?"

"Yes." Again, she silenced herself.

"Could you tell me?" The Admiral inquired.

"Tell me of what happened to my friends, first."

Carth's mind warped around the question at its own will. "I will tell you what—"Carth shook his head violently and grabbed his temple. _Did she just do that? _He never expected her to. "Wow, wait! Stop!" He felt something, like a serpent, claw its way through his head, probing for the answer it inquired, looking for its pray. "It was part of my intent to tell you! Stop this blasted sorcery…" He mumbled. "I've had enough of it!" He hated it when the Force was used against him, it would only bring back too much pained memories of battles he faced years ago. He despised it when the Force was used to bend a mind's own will. Mira finally seemed to understand, and the serpent in his head retreated to the fringes of his mind, almost gone.

Almost.

Carth stopped struggling and glared down at the ex-bounty hunter. She met his glare with one of her own. Neither backed down, then she spoke, "Tell me, where are they?" She backed up her words with intensity, rather than the Force. "_How_ are they?"

"They're here, safe." Carth figured it was time to calm the situation down, even though he really wanted to yank this woman from Telos to Bakura. "They all were banged up pretty bad from the crash. Only one causality, though." For a moment, he thought Mira had stopped breathing. "A Miraluka, Visas Marr, I believe her name was."

Mira, absorbing the news, let out a long breath that must have scratched her lungs. There was a long moment of silence between them as Mira closed her eyes.

Keeping them closed, she asked, "And what of the others? How are they?"

Carth let out a sigh. "They all came into the facility in critical condition, some within an inch of life left in them. However, it's been 4 days since the crash, and they all seem to be stabilized. Atton Rand has woken up about 3 hours ago and is being treated. The Echani, Brianna has awoken up 7 hours ago and is currently being treated in the recovery room, as well. Bao-Dur and Canderous are both in their bacta tanks-"

"Canderous?"

"Yes, Canderous." For a moment, Carth noticed confusion in her eyes. _Maybe it's just the meds. _He thought, and then continued, "They're expected to wake up in the next 1-2 hours." He stopped there, not wanting to go further, but Mira pushed.

"And… Zen? How's he living up?"

This hurt Carth most. Zenith Renar was his only hope in trying to contact Revan. Now, he was _hopeless_.

"Zenith," he cleared a lump in his throat. "Is in a coma."

This time, Carth _knew_ Mira stopped breathing.


	6. Waiting

Hope you like it so far. And thanks for the reviews, ya'll rock!

This one I think you'll enjoy because I loved writingit almost as much as I loved writing chapter 3. It's interesting and supsenseful. Plus, Canderous stars in his own scene. You also get to check out the crippled bird and it's condition.

**Chapter 6**

_Waiting_

A week after the crash, five of six of the surviving crew members were all in one large med room.

Bao-Dur lied against the wall in the corner on his bed, tinkering with his prosthetic arm, making improvements and making detachments. His right knee was in a knee brace for the Zabrak nearly torn two ligaments in the crash. A stitched scar crossed his forehead in a slant and was about two decimeters long. The left horn on his head was chipped if you looked at it from a closer angle, and his rib cage was wrapped in bandages. He occasionally glanced up at his commotional friends. Still, though, without his remote, he felt a little empty.

In front of him to his left was Mira's 'crib'. Even with things looking down, she managed to become more social with everybody and humor them a bit. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, slightly swinging her legs about and talking with Mandalore. From the crash, she received a minor concussion, but her left eardrum was damaged when some sharp debris flew at her head during the Hawk's ascent, causing temporarily or permanent death in that ear. Because of such, she received long lasting throbbing headaches. During their journey together, when she got headaches, she got stubborn like a Kath hound. But ever since the crash, she's been… nicer. Bao-Dur reflected. She acted more… grateful. Most of her other recovering scars were from the battle she had with Hanharr. They began to become infected but were cured once she reached the bacta tanks. Her right wrist was in a small splint for she sprained it.

On the same wall as the Zabrak sat Atton. He was looking down expressionless at his hands, but through the Force, Bao-Dur could feel his grief. One forearm and hand enveloped mostly of new pink skin was showing signs of recovery from the time when the Ebon Hawk's controls blew in front of him. But the other became infected badly, and… well, Atton got to see that attachment of his new prosthetic arm. It didn't look real, the price for that was too massive. A brown blackish glove would usually be strapped around the mechanical fingers to his forearm, but it wasn't attached at the moment. Atton gazed at the instruments working in his hand as he flexed his fingers in the same, sad stare. The man also suffered a fracture near the ankle after the crash, but it meant nothing to him compared to his arm. The Zabrak would never forget the look on the drinking scoundrel's face when he couldn't command the Force through his new hand. _Through time, he will._ He thought, remembering how long it took for him to learn to use the Force with his left arm.

In front of Atton's left was Brianna, who lay resting on her bed. She suffered a mild concussion and was scratched up in many places. Two scars were newly added to her face and would probably be there for months to come. Her right elbow hung in a sling and her foot in an ankle brace. Brianna was mostly cuts and bruises all over, so she looked in a lot better condition visually to the others once her blood clots were drained out. But she became tired after lose of so much internal blood. Breathing would be a problem every once in a while, too, because she cracked two ribs.

At the end of the room was Canderous Ordo. The two scars that had decorated his forehead and cheek from Malachor were finally recovering, though it still would be a long time until it decimates. He suffered a concussion worse than everyone else, so he always had a headache. With each throb grew less patience, and Canderous didn't have much patience to start with, especially after Mira accidentally called him by his real name instead of Mandalore. If he could walk, he would've got up and beat the bantha out of the girl, but later settled down and grew accustomed to the name after speaking with Carth. Canderous also endured a hip injury from the crash, but he never gave a name for what it was that was wrong with him. He said it had too many L's and to many M's in it. He sprained three fingers, the middle and ring on his right hand the index on his left which were each wrapped up for healing. In front of Canderous was a door leading out to the hallway, and next to the door was a neatly made bed, completely untouched by anyone.

_General… _It was a stab in the gut when he found out Zenith was in a coma. And it felt like someone ripped the lungs from him when he heard of Visas' fate. The Admiral had said they recovered the body incase they wished to plan a funeral. He also informed them that they brought the Ebon Hawk back into the station. _How_ they did it is a mystery to Bao-Dur.

When he asked for the droids, though, the Admiral asked with a tilt of his head, _"What droids?" _

"_Never mind." _It was surprising to him that they were never found. Bao-Dur just hoped the T3 unit was alright, but he couldn't remember where he had put him. He wasn't too fond of HK, his 'observations' and needless 'statements' began to erode at the Zabrak's patience quite often during their company.

Bao-Dur planned on seeing the remnants of the Hawk before night fell. It was just something he had to do, a _feeling_ he had. Maybe the droids weren't blown out of the ship; maybe he could find them… or their remains, at least.

Bao-Dur, returning from deep thought, looked out the window at the paralleling lanes of traffic and the bright lights emitting from several dozens of TSF towers in the distance. Again, Bao-Dur sensed something…

His companions, minus Canderous and still sleeping Brianna, looked at Bao-Dur and looked out the window with their own curiosity. Then their faces soon changed as they felt what the Zabrak felt. It was a… _strange _feeling. Yet it felt familiar, something they had all felt many years ago…

Then it was gone. All that remained was a confused and complaining Mandalorian.

"_Hello?_ What, haven't you ever seen space before?" Canderous crumpled up a paper cup and threw it at Atton's head.

"Ow!" Atton's hand went to aid his already injured head.

"So much for Jedi reflexes." Canderous mumbled.

After a yawn, the newly roused handmaiden asked while sitting up, "What's going on?"

Atton points an accusing finger at the Mandalorian, "He heaved a cup straight at my head!"

Brianna cocked an eyebrow up, slight amusement in her eye. "You mean a _paper_ cup?"

Atton's jaw twitched, "Well…" Canderous gave himself a deep chuckle. Atton glared at him then gave up and lay back in his bed. Brianna let a smile escape her face.

"Did you feel that?" Mira asked, totally oblivious to the jolly Canderous and fuming Atton. Brianna was taken aback a bit by surprise with the seriousness the ex-bounty hunter showed in her eyes.

"Felt what?" She asked, curious at what she missed. She had thought she was more sensitive to these things than most of the others Zen had trained.

Mira had confusion plastered on her young beat up face, and then she faced Bao-Dur to ask the same question.

He nodded, "I felt it."

Atton muffled a 'me too' under his pillow. He obviously was having another headache, only this time it was stress from Canderous who'd taken a liking at throwing paper cups at him.

"Felt what? What are you talking about?" Brianna asked again, more intrigued, yet nervous. The Mandalorian sat up as well, listening intently after crumpling the last cup by his bed and storing it beside his pillow for later.

"Something… something in the Force…" She started off, but she was lost with words.

"I felt it before… Its aura is familiar." Bao-Dur added his input. "But I haven't felt it in such a long, _long _time, though… I can't recognize it…" He faded off. Brianna had no idea what he was talking about, and Canderous seemed just as bewildered. They were all so deep in thought that they didn't notice Atton lean up on his bed, removing his pillow from his face.

"Well, whatever _it_ is, it's getting closer."

--

With a little bit of persuasion and a little Force nudge, Bao-Dur was able to convince the med staff to clear him out of the med wing so he could see his old ship.

Bao-Dur probably should've waited for his health to grow better, but the conversation earlier that day of what he felt above Citadel made him want to get out, move around. _Think._

Bao-Dur couldn't enter the hanger, too much security. _Strange. _He thought. _Why are there so many guards looking after a dead ship?_

The only way to see the Hawk was to take a turbolift up to the next floor and take a look from the view port. So, that's what Bao-Dur did. There were very few spectators there; a few guards looked down and out the window at the miraculous ship. A scarce amount of civilians, he guessed, were there, though each one of them looked down in either pain or wonder at how the ship was still in one piece… mostly. Again, something felt _strange_ to him, but it was probably his apprehension at seeing his ship again. Bao-Dur passed the wall and finally looked down at the wrecked ship before him.

Immediately his face had tensed and his insides swelled. The entire front of the ship was dented and coated with scorch marks. The view from the cockpit was nearly pinched shut and showed a dark void of what would've been the pilot's control console. Whatever paint the ship had received was now completely worn off, if not ripped off. Bao-Dur then lifted his eyes to the back of the ship where the two ion engines lay. He saw the wires and circuits that were exposed and cut. Meters of covering panels were torn off the Hawk's coat, which were probably the cause of the noise during hyperspace. He had no idea that _that_ much was really ripped off during their jump. His eyes then began to wave over the hull, seeing all the eroded edges and systems currently exposed on its shell.

He felt his throat clench when remembering that he was _on_ that ship. _Everyone_ was.

All senses drained from him when he remembered their tumult towards Telos. The memories that stuck out most vividly were the ones in which the General had given his orders to him. Possibly the last orders he'll ever make if his condition doesn't get better…

"Hey, you ok?" A stranger's voice had said. Suddenly Bao-Dur put his senses back on and noticed the person had their hand on his shoulder. _No threat,_ he told himself. _Just relax… breath…_

"I'm Alora." She said friendly-like. "And you are…?"

"Bao-Dur." He lifted his hand to shake hers. Now he took the opportunity to gaze upon her. She looked somewhere in her mid-late thirties and had mud brown close-crop hair. Her eyes were deep brown and welcoming, yet were worn by a fighter. That would probably explain why she was dressed like a mercenary. Bao-Dur could feel the scars of battle on her. _A war veteran. _He concluded. Her grip was firm, along with her stance, and she wore a small pinkish brown scar near her left eye, about an inch in length. They let loose their grip and let his hands fell onto the railing, then gestured with his prosthetic arm, "You here for the scenery?" He looked out at the crumbling ship. Because of the Holonet, the astonishing and alarming descent to Telos was aired for days in a row across the galaxy. It annoyed Admiral Onasi greatly that it was aired in the first place, but now people were paying great money for whatever remained of the ship, or at least see it. Because the Republic was in desperate need of money, some people among the Senate convinced him to let a few people at a time take a look at the ship. But, for some reason, Carth refused, absolutely _refused_ to give any piece of the ship away.

"Came all the way from the outer rim to see it." She replied, looking out at the ship with her brilliant brown eyes. "I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it. Amazing how a number of the crew members breathe still."

"Yes, it is." He went into deep thought about his companions. Though their lives have been altered forever, either mentally or physically, even the doctors had laid down the fact that they were going to survive. Of course, the chances of the General's survival were quite opposite from theirs. As he stretched out to feel the presence of his master, he realized that the whole time, Alora was staring keenly at him. Realizing that he had closed his eyes, he opened them, only to look and find Alora still staring hard into his eyes, into his _soul_, it felt like._ Strange woman…_ he thought.

"I wonder if they sent them to Coruscant, for treatment. For all I know, there's only one famed doctor on this station." She kept looking into his eyes, searching them. Bao-Dur thought of where their quarters were, and figured he should probably head back soon. Then, again and unwillingly, he thought about the exile in his bacta tank. _I'll visit him tomorrow._ He figured.

"Maybe," he told her. "I heard they were transferred to Coruscant." That wasn't a total lie, for it was another rumor going around among the Station. He convinced himself, _I'm not lying, from a _'certain point of view'With that, he smiled to himself.

"Yeah, I heard that from a guy, too." She leaned on the railing next to him, finally turning her eyes to the now famous ship. "Then again, I also heard from a guy that bantha's can fly, also. So you can't believe everything you hear."

It was quiet between them both as they gazed down upon the ship. In her presence, or any presence with a kind aura around him, he felt a bit calmer. The lump in his throat seized its expansion and began to erode. Then he felt Alora's weight lift off the rail.

"Well, I've seen what I've some to see." She padded the Zabrak on his real shoulder that was closest to her. "Safe journey, Bao." And with that, she left. Bao-Dur only waved and mentally wished luck back to her.

Leaning on the railing and staring at the Hawk, Bao-Dur just began to realize how late it was quite a while after Alora had left, though it didn't seem too long ago. So, he got up and began walking back toward the med wing, a little worried at how Kurn would thank him for his tardiness.

As walking back, his mind drifted off to the conversation he had with the brown-haired woman, Alora. After a moment of thinking to himself, he hesitated in his step, in which brought pain shooting up his knee, but Bao-Dur continued moving. Yet he kept wondering to himself, _How did she know that the crew members still lived? It wasn't public knowledge. _He debated this to himself until he reached his quarters. Indeed, yes, Doctor Kurn was on the other side of the door, temper only rising with each passing second Bao-Dur wasn't in the room. _Maybe she just assumed._ He theorized. Then he braced himself for Kurn's disapproval of Bao-Dur's delayed return.

--

Though late at night, Canderous managed to leave the med wing in his hover chair and made it into Zenith's room. He watched the honored man behind the window in the bacta tank with awe and grief. He recalled the number of battles he went through with the Jedi in the past few months. _You're one hell of a fighter, kid._ He thought. _Just… hang in there._

It was hopeless if he was in a coma. Canderous looked at the still form of a warrior with whom he battled alongside with pride no more than two weeks ago. For a moment, his eyes blurred.

_Oh, jeez! _He rubbed his eyes forcefully, knocking away tears. _Suck it up, you're Mandalore! _In his head, he closed his eyes and recited a few Mandalorian chants.

When he opened them, he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room.

Another woman stood beside him. He didn't dare look at her face though, for he didn't know if she saw him…

Well, cry.

She stood, looking into the glass at the figure of the exile. "This is Zenith Renar, correct?" It sounded more like a statement instead of a question. Canderous nodded and caught a glance at the woman. She had brown short hair and wore armor like a mercenary. _What in blasted space is a merc doing here?_ He thought.

He went to look up at her facial features, and suddenly his eyes blurred…

He rubbed them forcefully again, but noticed they weren't tears. _Um, 'ok'._ He looked up after a moment and noticed that the woman somehow had gotten into the other side of the room. _What? How… is she supposed to be there?_

Canderous remembered how strict Kurn was and how he never let anyone inside with the exile without the doctor's supervision. He watched the woman reach out to the tank containing the exile and close her eyes. Well, he wasn't _sure _if she closed her eyes, for every time he looked at her face, it blurred. _Something's wrong…_

He'd never thought he needed to use it, but he pushed the emergency button on his hover-chair. That signal went through every security station in the whole citadel. The woman must have known, for she glanced back from the exile and into Canderous' eyes.

And this time, her face came into focus.

What stood out to him most were her vivid, piercing brown eyes, and then it hit him.

_Revan!_

He stood from his chair, as if it would make his view of her better, but pain overwhelmed his hip and he fell to the floor. He winced, blinking only once.

And that blink was all it took for Revan's escape. Canderous heard footsteps coming from the hallway grow louder. He looked back at to where Revan had once stood, and then movement drifted his eyes to the exile. Republic soldiers burst through the door with Lt. Grenn leading them. They took positions around the room, watching for any threat. Grenn went to lift Canderous up and back into his chair, but the Mandalorian shoved him off, pointing to the exile. "Look!"

All eyes turned to the Jedi in the bacta tank. His body twitched. For a moment, the soldiers dropped their guard.

Then he twitched again. Grenn took out his comlink. "Doctor Kurn?"

Zenith twitched more violently this time, and now they could see his facial muscles convulse into what looked like he was in horrible pain. "Yes, I need Doctor Kurn now! Tell him the Jedi's woken up!"

Canderous watched with wide eyes as the exile flexed his muscles powerfully, as if trying to release himself from a bind. Then he began to feel light pressure in his ears and the lights faded from on to off and back on again. Even through the bacta and the wall, he could hear the exile screaming. _What's happening?_

"Doctor Kurn? … Hurry!" Canderous began to notice cracks forming in the exile's tank. Each crevice growing, expanding, and leaking. "I don't know!" Grenn yelled into the comm. "He seems to be in tremendous pain and I can't—!" Grenn was cut off his conversation by the loud break of glass from the other side of the room.

Bacta was spilled all over the floor with glass shards spreading across the room. And there, in the center of it, lay the exile, gasping on the white tiled floor.

'_What happened? What was that sound?'_ Canderous recognized the voice as Kurn's coming through the comm. Before he let Grenn reply, Canderous grabbed the cuff of the general while still in his same position on the floor as he was when he fell. "Tell them," He said. "Tell Carth that Revan's here."

All color had drained from Lt. Grenn's face. "W-wha… Revan?"

---

I'll try to get the next chapter up as quick as I can, but it may take a while.

R&R please. I'd like to see your rating on this one because it took me the longest to do.


	7. Don't You Wanna Find Her?

Hey, friendly internet commoners! How you doin'?

Sorry it took me a while longer to update. Life's getting busy now that vacation's over. I don't think this chapter is as long as the others, but it does help explain alot of things concerning Revan in my last chapter. This Chapter stars my favorite Admiral, a pretty Jedi, and a cool Mandalorian.

Read and Enjoy

**Chapter 7**

_Don't You Wanna Find Her?_

"What in blasted known space were you _thinking_!" Canderous hollered at Carth as he entered the Admiral's lengthy office room. The doors hissed closed behind the crippled man as he raced towards Carth in his hover-chair. Even with his frail appearance in the chair, Carth still found him intimidating. Plus, he's never seen hover-chairs move at _that _speed before…

"It took me a half hour to get from the other side of the station all the way to your precious little private office. Revan could be off the station by now! What's wrong with you? Don't you wanna find her? She _is_ your woman, last time I was noted." Canderous finally slowed his rampage by the time he reached Carth's desk.

Carth, who was now leaning on the edge of his desk, massaged his temples for a moment and finally looked the Mandalorian in the eye. "What was I thinking?" he asked, stabbingin finger at his chest. "Oh contraire my friend, what were _you _thinking?" Taken aback, Canderous lay back in his chair and crossed his arms at Carth's tone. He heard soft footsteps enter from behind him. "If Revan had wanted us to know she was here, she would've come directly to us first! She wouldn't have been hiding her presence from me, but she was! That means she had a good reason for doing that, damn it!"

"True," spoke a feminine voice from behind him, "for moments after your distress signal beamed throughout the station, I felt her presence unveil." Canderous revolved his chair around to find an all too familiar woman he hadfought with many years ago.

"Bastila, you're still alive?" The Mandalorian acted surprised. "Shouldn't be too astonished, on behalf that you're the most stubborn woman I've ever met. How are things?"

Placing her hand on her hip and leaning to one side, she replied in her typical tone, "Things are how things are. In the meantime, however, I've heard that you're the new Mandalore and that you're uniting all the Mandalorians under your banner. I've also heard that you're running your operations on the distinct moon of Dxun, in the Onderon system. Words can't suffice as to how I feel about your recent activities, but nevertheless, I'm not displeased that you still breathe in this galaxy."

"Well," a little awed at how Bastila knew all of his operations, Canderous scratched his head. "I always knew you had good hearing. You know, maybe you should stop by and visit the camp sometime. Dxun's great, like a baby Alderaan if you bring bug spray."

Carth, a bit annoyed at how quickly they were all moved off topic, interjected. "Can we get back to the present, _please_?"

"Of course," Bastila tilted her head in apology. "I apologize, Carth; I didn't mean to drift off course."

With a big sigh, the Mandalorian gave his sorry in the simple form of a 'yeah.'

"Thank you." Carth replied, directing at Bastila as far as Canderous noticed. "Look, every second we waist is another second Revan and her mission is put at jeopardy. We-"

"_Jeopardy_?" Canderous interrupted. "Alright, soldier, what do you know that I don't? I fail to see-"

"Just _listen _and stick _with_ me here, Canderous!" Carth said through clenched teeth as he leaned over the man's hover chair. Carth regretted looking straight into the warriors eyes, but continued on. "You publicly announced that you saw Revan. You said that she was here! Word of that is spreading from the highest status of Admirals all the way down to the lowest status of janitors! Every minute means another 7 people know of Revan's presence on this station. In fact, I've already received demands that we close down the hangars without letting any cargo or transports in or out just to make sure we cancapture her. Do you know the looks I get when I turn them down? Do you? They look at me like _I_ was the Dark Lord!" In frustration, Carth knocked some holofiles off his desk.

"But don't you _want_ to find her? She's here right now! Maybe she came back because she needs our help."

"If she needed help," Carth walked away toward his wide office window gaping over the southern Citadel. He said his next words slowly and quiet enough for even Bastila had to strain to hear. "She would've came to me, but she didn't... she went to the exile."

After letting silence drift among the room, Canderous spoke out, "Why the exile?" Carth didn't answer him and only stared out his window. He heard Bastila slowly creep up behind him.

"As you know, the exile was in severe condition. It was never expected of him to come out of his coma. The very fact that Revan was the source that knocked him out of it…" Bastila's words faded off as she thought to herself. Canderous had to nudge her to share her thoughts. "Well, reality proves that time in the unknown regions has made Revan exceedingly powerful. That would explain how she was so difficult to detect."

Canderous raised an eyebrow. "Detect through your magic?"

Bastila ignored the 'magic' remark and continued. "Yes, she cloaked herself well enough to avoid identification, but her veil dropped when you alerted the station of her presence. I must ask you, how long did it take for you to classify it was Revan?"

Canderous thought back to the moment he had in the med bay only 45 minutes ago. "I hit the buzzer before I really knew it was her. It was only then her face could come into focus. And heck, I knew who she was."

"Only then?" _Oh, is this an interrogation now? _The Mandalorian thought. He noticed Bastila smile slighty, mouthing 'no.' Canderous blinked once, and then concluded. _Stupid Jedi mind tricks. No more making friends with supernatural mind-readers._

Remembering that she asked a question, he answered, "When she first came into the room, no, I couldn't recognize her. It was like the features of her face diffused every time I looked at it. It all fell into place, though, when I hit the button."

Bastila nodded her head as if seeing all the puzzle pieces come into place. "When she let her guard down…"

"Huh?"

"When she let her guard down… I meant that she was using her Force Camouflage against you. Strange. The masters had told me that camouflage could only work on the weak mind…" Bastila was in deep thought. Carth had finally turned around from the window and came back within two yards of the conversers.

"I hope that wasn't an insult, Bastila." Canderous' hands fiddled at the edges of his hover-chair's controls. Though an interesting conversation, he found gutting cannoks with an old-fashioned slingshot more satisfying then this.

Apparently, Bastila didn't hear him. She was trying to solve an entire mystery in her head and was obviously taking her time. Canderous thought of time as a luxury, and right now, there were no luxuries. "Look," he said. "I just don't see why we're not going after her-"

"We're not going after her because we will put her life, her mission, and maybe even the whole galaxy on the line." Carth pointed out. Even though his voice was even tempered, the look in his eyes said every emotion he's felt ever since Revan's departure.

Loneliness.

"But _how_? You can't-"

"We can't look for her because wherever we go, others will follow." He said, voice going on edge. "Those _others_ could be either followers or assassins. And if you ask me, I'd rather not go ahead and experiment! Some people still alive from the Mandalorian wars despise Revan while there are others that will beg upon their life that she'd come back and regulate the Republic. Some people will want to shoot her on sight for her history and some will want to spit in her face. I will _not_, and I repeat, _NOT _be the cause of civic pain towards her!" His voice started to sound more threatening than a laigrek with each word. "I KNOW that she's endured enough pain from outsiders and I KNOW _I've _endured enough pain from outsiders! Now that you know why we can't go after her, let's just DROP THIS!" With a thrust of his hand through the air, Carth Onasi left the room in emotional dismay.

Canderous sat shell-shocked at the back of his hover-chair, finally realizing what he'd done when he'd hit his alarm. Only three sentences could be formed in his mind, 'Oops,' 'Is Revan ok?' and 'What are we going to do?' Of course, after Carth's last few words, there doesn't seem to be a 'we' anymore…

"Canderous?" A tiny hand lay on his large shoulder.

Caught off guard for a moment, he responded, "Uh, yeah? What do you need?"

Comfortingly, her voice spoke in small volume, "Would you like for me to arrange an escort for you to return you to your new quarters?"

Sighing, he said, "Sure." Bastila began to walk off, but the warriors voice stopped her. "Wait, _new _quarters?"

"For you and your companions' own wellbeing, you all need to be separated into different sections of the station."

"Why?" he asked, irritated. "What did I do now?"

She responded, "Now the civilians and TSF personnel know that the crew of the Ebon Hawk is on station. We are taking the highest precautions that they can't pinpoint you. But don't worry yourself. Kurn will be able to arrange you all transportation off the station in no time." There was a moment's pause between the two of them in which Canderous eyed her warily.

"Exactly how long is 'no time'?"

Reluctantly she answered as she spun on her wheel to make arrangements. "No less than a week."

Canderous watched her go, shaking his head at her. With a loud grunt, he revolved his chair around and waited at the door for his escort.


	8. Then Win

**SOOO sorry for the incredibly lOOOOng update. Life's been a bit hectic in my house. You see, (list of excuses ahead) after the last chapter, I hit a writers block, but didn't know it. Around that time, my sister came home, and is quite found of having this particular computer in her possesion for about 5 hours straight. When I'm finally able to kick her off, I just remember that I _had_ a writers block, so I gave the computer back to her. (Big mistake, but oh well) Then, after 97 pounds of homework, I surpass the block and start typing chapter 8. I finished yesterday, and was very happy with it. So I tried to put the file thingy into the thingy... and, of course, I have acurse with technology. I kept losing connection everytime. :( -sad face-**

**(End of Excuses)**

**Well, I hope the wait for this chapter was worth it, I'll try getting Chp 9 up this weekend.**

**Plus, ever since I found out that scenes were cut out of KotOR II, I did a little researching and came up with the dialog to some of that stuff. The site's at the bottom of my profile, if you want to check it out.**

**Chapter 8**

_Then Win_

"For the last vapin' time, I don't know where that stupid white long desk goes!" Atton yelled at Doctor Kurn's assistant, Juntel.

Juntel let out a heavy sigh. He was commed 0100 hours in the morning to transfer his superior's patients to their new recovery quarters for an anonymous reason. Don't get the wrong idea, Juntel loved his job, but he was off shift, and like 74 percentof the other logical persons on the station, he was sleeping. Apparently, all but one of the patients that needed to be transferred was a part of that 74 percent.

"Mr. Rand, please." The assistant's voices echoed his tiredness. Orderlies displayed their impatience behind the man by crossing their arms. "I work with Dr. Kurn personally,-"

"I'm sure you do." Atton interrupted, moving his eyes to the bulkier men behind the doctor.

Juntel continued, "And I know he likes his things very organized. His unique setup is different from every other specimen in this galaxy-"

"I bet his mommy's proud."

Juntel cursed and gripped the back of his neck out of pure frustration. He glared Atton in the eye. "Do you actually _want_ another injection?"

Atton moaned. _What I _want_ is to fall ASLEEP! _He let his head fall back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Look," He held his hand in the air, as if that were his proof, "I _just don't know _where the Doc puts his stuff. INCLUDING that gleaming little white long deskover there. Ok? So why don't you grab your microbe comlink and talk to _him _and ask _him _where _his _desk goes with _his _stuff and _his _papers with _my _medical treatments and—Oh Force!" Atton sprung up from his laying position. "THAT explains the headache!" He forgot to take his pills.

Doctor Juntel, eyes now bloodshot of lack of sleep and peaceful conversation gritted his teeth for a few heartbeats. He was currently thinking of ways to painfully incapacitate Atton without getting caught on the security holocams. Getting away with it would be difficult, so he threw the thought from his mind, and then gestured toward the orderlies behind him. "Put the desk over by the right corner, and all medical cabinets next to it."

Atton, now rubbing his head, shadowed a grinn. The desk was supposed to go in the _left _corner of the room.

Atton noticed Juntel reach into the med cabinet and take out a tiny jar with pills. He got a cup, filled it with water, then turned and gave both to Atton reluctantly. With a dry expression, he said, "My prayers willgo forthe immediateaid of your massive head." _And mouth, _he thought inwardly.

Ignoring the 'massive head' comment, Atton took three pills out of the jar, shoved it in his mouth with his prosthetic forearm, and gulped down the water. His facial muscles winced at the taste, "Ugh, _nasty_ stuff!" After placing the jar at a desktop nearby, he noticed all the men gratefully leaving his new quarters after placing the last of the transported supplies.

_New_ quarters. That was one for the unknown. No one had ever explained to him or anybody why they were all to switch to new quarters immediately. _But, c'mon! Did 'immediately' have to be 0100 hours in the _morning

Before leaning back down in his bed, he looked at his new slot. Everything was still white, with a tinge of TSF yellow along the trimming. Atton wasn't impressed with it unless that little unknown box by the door was a mini bar. Nothing in the room was set up like it had been when he shared a room with his friends. _Humph, _he thought with a mischievous grin as he began to lie down, _Doctor Kurn is _not_ going to be happy._

He lied there for ten minutes, completely aware of the silence.

Also completely aware of how much he wanted a drink.

During the war with Revan and Malak, when Atton escaped his loyal oath to them, he sited himself to Nar Shaddaa. Back then, he traveled unaccompanied, making a new identity to cover up his old one. He usually traveled alone, not ever sticking to any friends but the ones that carried blasters and ammo charges. Never really having friends to confine personnel terms with, he felt lonely.

And every time he felt lonely, he drank.

---

Admiral Carth Onasi was sitting on the edge of his massive bed in his private quarters.

The lights were off, and the only glow coming into the room was coming through the evenly shaded window. Hover-cars would occasionally pass by, but their noise was muted through the sound proof walls. It was a perfect place for one to sleep, yet Carth sat alone in his room, staring blankly at the floor, as if his mind was in another place.

_She's here._ That thought vibrated in his mind ever since Lt. Grenn briefed him of what happened in the med wing. _Obviously, her mission is of great importance to her, but still. I could help, I'm good as hell willing to! But why did she go to _him_? Why the exile? He's in no state to battle, even with his abilities! Wait, maybe she doesn't want him to battle… maybe he knows something. Yeah, that's probably it, but what if it's not? What could he know or do that's so vital to her mission? According to his records, he's traveled among the outer rim, but that's it. Could he have traveled further, beyond known territory? That would explain why the exile's files are so thin of known activity... Maybe I should find her, at least see her, for galactic sake. Yeah, maybe… no, definitely NO. Don't you EVER think like that again, Onasi.I'll put her _and_ her mission in danger. But… still… she's here._

Carth sighed and rubbed his temple. "I think too much." Then, there was knocking at his door.

A small feminine voice spoke through it. "Carth, are you awake?"

"No." He replied, knowing that she'd come in anyway.

A soft hiss from the door proved the man right, and Bastila stepped into the room withsoft feet. "I sensed your discomfort." Seconds passed with no response from Carth. Bastila slowly sits at the top of the bed, a respectable distance away from him. "May I assist you with anything?"

Carth moves his stare from the floor to the wall. "No."

Bastila exhibits frustration with a sigh. The room was so quiet he could hear his heart. After four heartbeats, he began to feel a little tickle in his mind, and knew what she was doing. "Carth—"

"No."

"Carth, please, just-"

"No!" Carth lifts himself up from his seat and goes toward his faded window.

"Stop thinking about her!" Bastila lifts herself as well.

"I can't!" He refuses to look at Bastila.

"You have to! It's already against the Code for a Jedi to be mated with someone. Her mission is imperative and perilous, and she needs NO distractions! The passion that she hadsomehow found for you is all it takes for her to—"

"No, no, NO! Just—stop it! Ok? Stop being so damn negative!" He finally turns to her, eyes revealing the pain he's been through in the last 5 years. "She WON'T fall to the dark side. She will NEVER fall to the dark side. She promised me that!"

Carth glared at her in the chilling silence, his eyes like a deadly laigrek and hers like a terrified pet gizka. Bastila could feel herself sweat as shefelt Carth's disturbed aura. She touched a very sensitive topic.

Again.

In a quiet, cold voice, Carth turns back to the window at the passing lights. "You brought this topic up one-too many times in the years of her absence. Talk about it again," Carth let his words drift to increase the Jedi's tension. "Find protection from _someplace else._" Never looking at her, Carth walked over to the door and let it slide open. With a tight jaw, he adds, "It's late. You should go back to your quarters."

Bastila, hurt and failing not to show it, nodded her head and walked out. "Good night, Admiral."

Carth's response was delayed. "Right." Then he closed his door, and sat on his bed. Feeling all alone.

Again.

---

3 days after his awakening, Zenith Renar lay down in his secure white bed.

Red, yellow, and blue lights flashed off his life-check systems. Two glossy tubes with red fluids flew up from one arm and disappeared into a silver lined hard box. After a moment, redder, healthier-looking fluids appeared from the other tube on the other side of the box. The fluids zipped down the tube into his right arm. Their were status readouts at the front of his bed glowing yellow from the font, and some green and yellow marks filled in on the side to display the results. They've been healing Zenith from his coma ever since he got out of it, yet they were running tests for vague reasons on him, too.

And they were always watching him. His recovery, his response to their questions, in all his waking hours, in all his sleeping hours, even in _therapy_…

Yes, that's right, therapy. Physical and mentaltherapy. Physical because when the found his unconscious body, it was embedded half-way into the pilot's console. That's what the Twi'lek had told him, but he's known to exaggerate. The numerous amounts of shocks from the force field were enough to overcome his nervous system. But the larger bolts from the crushed panel were just shy of killing him, so they instead sent him into a coma. Because of the electrical overdose, there were times in which his muscles would spasm uncontrollably. In his therapy sessions, they'd give him exercises to get his muscle strength up to snuff and to obliterate the increase of muscle contraction.

He had to go to mental therapy because… well, seeing Visas die in front of him stroke a blow like a vibrosword to the chest. She loved him… why didn't he love her back? For her sake, not his, he should've at least _given it a chance_. Why couldn't he protect her from Kreia's foresight? Why did she even come up to the cockpit when he specifically said to take shelter in the main hold? She loved him, that's why. But how could she love him, or risk saying it? She knew the path he'd walk was one she could not follow._ The Force was willing to let her go, but not me. My life is too _valued_ with my _precious destiny

He hated that. With every cell in his being, he hated that.

Zen returned his thoughts to the present to notice that his blood cleaning was over, and two doctors were taking the tubes out of his arm and enclosing the exposure of the vessels under his skin. He ignored the pain; he could honestly care less about his well-being. Even if it was atemporary renal failure.

Another reason why he was in mental therapy.

Yet, sometimes, though, it felt more like an interrogation. They moved from asking about his common self to asking things about his private life. His _real _private life. Like, what happened to him in the war, what battles he fought in, what he did during his exile, where he traveled to, who he met and such. One therapist revealed their intentions toward him by asking if he's ever seen Revan since the war.

He was comm'd after asking me that, and our session ended early. I never saw the same therapist ever again.

It was true that he hasn't seen Revan since the war, but he has indeed felt her presence among the station when he opened up to the thoughts of others. Even with the thousands of beingson Citadel Station, her incoming voice makes all the others seem like a secondary chorus. Every time he opened up, he'd receive the same message from her;

_Follow me once more, for I need you once again. You are the only one who can walk my path. You will walk in the darkest places of the galaxy… and I will be your guide. Come to me soon or now, or the galaxy _will _succumb entirely by an ever living sith monster. I state facts, not threats. Follow me once more, for I need you once again. You are the only one who can walk my path…_

Zenith lay in his bed, thinking hard. _You will walk the darkest places of the galaxy… You are the only one...Come… or the galaxy _will_ succumb… ever living sith monster…_

Zen's insides tightened. He didn't want to fight anymore. He didn't want to kill anymore. He didn't want to _lose_ anymore.

'_Then _win_.'_

Zen leaned up from his bed wide-eyed, startling the two doctors that were typing their observations of him into their datapad. _Was that…?_

'_I will be with you, in the darkest of times, to the lightest.'_

_Visas._

He waited for her to speak more, but all he heard was the clicking of med mechinary around him. _Tonight. _He thought. _Tonight, is where I follow my destiny. _He lay back in his bed, closing his eyes from the distorted faces watching him.

In the silence, before falling into his dreams, he hears her voice once more.

_'Rest, my love. For many dark paths lay in front of you. Revan may be your guide, but I will be your light.'_


	9. A Time Not So Distant

**Sorry for the long update. Last week I got smacked with two projects from Science and History. How nice. So my update might've been a _wee _bit late. Well, actually a _week _bit late, but better late than never. I hope this chapter can satisfy you guys and gals for a while. My update won't be until next week, if not in two weeks. But I can guarentee you that the next chapter will be quite interesting.**

**Chapter 9**

_A Time Not So Distant_

"…No way."

"I'm serious!"

"Impossible. Have you been chewing on spice?" asked Lenara Blie, a mid-age TSF security monitor patrolling the halls in the Residential Module. Her shift had just begun at 1100 hours, so no Telosians were walking among the corridors. Usually she'd be strolling around the corridors by herself, but recently, her leading officer had declared that all patrols travel in twos. Unwillingly, she was set with a rookie who jabbered too much.

"By my life, it's true! Even ask Tash!" Otto Regald bleated. Otto was a young junior officer, maybe 20, and pretty short for a human male. He had shaved his head in training, but light brown hairs could be seen protruding out of his scalp area, even with the helmet on. By the childish glint in his eyes, it didn't take a genius to know that this recruit hasn't seen any battle.

"Ok…" They turned and walked another round of their Module, 086. "Let's say I believe you. But tell me this, why on Correllian's eight moons would she even set a _foot _back into known space? If you ask me, _and_ the thousand of other troops that worked under her I bet, she was better off _cut out _of Republic Space." Some anger could be heard through her voice. "_And_ our lives."

"Well, maybe. But she's _here_! Jedi Master Revan is _here_, on this station!"

"More like _Dark Lord _Revan is on this station. Besides, it's just a rumor. Probably started by the mercs when they got bored." They now turned a corner, getting ready to repeat their rounds. The young recruit didn't let the topic dwindle off.

"Oh, c'mon! Didn't you hear of what Revan did? She helped out the Republic in the final hours of the war against Malak. _She _was the one that brought Malak to his feat and won vengeance for all who died against him." Otto's voice was slowly beginning to rise with volume. _I _hate _rookies. _Lenara thought glumly.

"Again, must I repeat the word? _Rumors_." She started to pace the hall a little faster, as if to run away from the subject. This was a sensitive topic for her. Revan had sacrificed many things in the war. One of which was her family.

Otto, not getting the signal, kept in pace with her. "Hey, take a look from my perspective. Why do you think that all sudden patrols are paired up and their shifts were streched?"

Easy. "Because a mere two weeks ago we were attacked and infiltrated by Sith remnants."

"What about security checks on a ships cargo? Why'd that immediately tighten up?"

Not so easy. "Well, there _was_ a smuggling movement happening on Citadel. They must be just making sure it's totally cleaned up, and they leave no pathways for other non-legal goods to make their way onto the station."

Otto furrowed his brows and looked down to think of another question. _So juvenile. _She thought.

After a moment, he looked at her in the eyes. She noticed his sea blue eyes go glacier for a moment, solidifying suspicion above curiousity, and, for a moment, making him look years older than he was. "What about… the med wing? Module 988. How would you explain _that_?"

Lenara stumbled in her step. Not from the question, but from how quickly the boy switched from a self-filled juvenile to a veteran inquirer. "I don't… What happened in the med wing?" For once, her attention was 100 percent focused on the boy. Apparently, though, 100 percent of the boy's attention was fixed on something behind her. Following his gaze, she turned around and returned to her prone stance.

Quite a distance away from them, was a shady figure in a cloak. _Well, not _totally _shady. The big white vest along the black robes is a dead giveaway._

But still, it's way past midnight. Even the cantina is vacant. Everyone should be home, sleeping, and this was peculiar.

The figure kept moving to its destination until Lenara's voice interfered. "Hold it." The figure stopped, and she along with her partner kept walking towards it. "It's awfully late to be scurrying around the corridors. If you don't mind, we'd like to perform a routine security check-"

"I'm on business." He lightly gestured a hand through the air. "And I'm in a hurry."

Lenara's sight began to fuzz up, and her thoughts stopped, as if cut off. "You're on business, plus, you're in a hurry."

With another gesture, he added, "It may be best if you let me move along and forget I was here."

"It may be best if I let you move along and forget you were here. Move along." The figure left and continued to an area which held separate apartments.

Lenara was left standing there for a moment, then turned to her cohort. "Tell me, what happened in the med wing?"

_I didn't lie… from a… certain point of view. Force, I hate saying that!_

Zenith Renar debated with himself after Force persuading the guards to let him go on about his "business."

_I _was _on business…_

Though, on some worlds, it might illegal to make arrangements and meetings with an ex-Dark Lord.

_I _was_ in a hurry…_

Yeah, in a hurry to avoid detection from any if not all governmental figures and officials. Doctor Kurn including.

_I may have been a wee bit vague…_

Being vague about how he was planning to find Revan, fight along side her against endless legions of sith, following her into the unknown regions, flying into uncharted space, and trying to save the billions upon trillions of lives in the galaxy, was no big deal. Even if a good thousand amount of those people voted it as suicidal.

_And it _was_ best if she let me move along and forget I was ever there…_

…So he could keep sneaking around, doing something considered illegal on most worlds, avoid the TSF patrols, launch a quest considered suicidal, and pray that he never ran into Doctor Kurn ever again within the next decade.

But he didn't lie, from a _certain point of view_.

Zenith swallowed the dispute going off in his head as he neared his destination.

Yet, when he thought about it, he never truly knew where _exactly _his destination was. Around the hour of 1030 was the time when Zen left his recovery quarters. That was 30 minutes after the doctors had their shift change. In other words, Dr. Kurn would've been too far away when he was notified of his missing patient. The exile managed to convince the two doctors within his room to fall into a nice, lengthy sleep. Zen fogged up the security holocams (Atton learned and taught him that) so no one could see what he was doing. After exiting the room, he visited the various labs containing observation terminals and technical readouts about his recovery. The many observations they made shook Zen when he glanced at them. But he didn't have time, so he went to each staff member (six in total) and convinced four that they didn't have their shift that night and they should go home. The other two had stronger willed minds, and Zen had to force them to sleep and make them forget what they saw. He didn't expect them to know he was gone until the next shift change, which was 0600 hours in the morning. If he was lucky, maybe they wouldn't find out even then. But he was trained as a Jedi, and the philosophy he learned as a child denied that any such luck exists.

Zen closed off his thoughts, shut his eyes, and reached out to the Force with his mind. He could now feel her message and presence, stronger then ever. How he was the only one who was able to sense this magnificent force, he became intrigued on how Revan concealed it from every other sensitive being on this station but him. In fact, you don't even have to be a Jedi to feel this power.

_Every sensitive being… even non-Jedi…_

This thought made him remember of the people that took him this far down his journey. _Atton, T3, Bao-Dur, Mira, Visas, Mandalore, HK… Kreia… So many others…_

Zen opened his eyes and noticed he was standing in front of an apartment door. The being's presence pumped through him with every beat of his heart. If he followed the beating to its source, he realized, he may never see his friends again…

He never even got a chance to thank them, much less say goodbye.

_Second thoughts… no, no second thoughts. I _have _to do this. I must. _In the back of his mind, he could hear Kreia's wise voice echoing from the past through him, _"They've served their part, now, you must serve yours. The consequences will be fatal if you reject what has been bestowed upon you since your birth. There will come a time not so distant in which you must choose the fate of the galaxy. If you say no, than the galaxy will be swallowed slowly into an eternal darkness, where no life is conceived. However, if you say yes, the galaxy will live on, their massive life force more blinding than the death of a billion stars. That is, if you succeed. Will you kill the galaxy, or attempt to save all it contains?"_

Those words were told to him while in hyperspace towards Dantioone. He knew he had to choose _now_.

Opening up farther into the Force and finding the flames of life that had brought him here, he emanated a message.

_Thank you. I will miss you._

The tan-colored apartment door opened to a dark room, and he walked inside. The door's closing hiss signified the beginning of a long, long journey in a place far, far away…


	10. So Many Questions

**-Hello-**

**I updated faster this time for the cause of an overdose on sugar.**

**This one may not be as long, but I still think you may find it quite a bit interesting. Thanks to Dante-Revan and SilverSentinal21for the reviews!**

**Chapter 10**

_So Many Questions_

"General Renar, it's been a long time." An unintelligible voice emanated from the corner.

_This is it. _The exile concluded. "No offense, Commander, but not long enough."

"Likewise." A hooded figure moved from the dark corner of the room. The place was a twin to every other unit in the Residential Module. These lights were dim, if not off, to grant the illusion that it was vacant of conscious tenants. The figure slowed to a stop in the middle of the room while Zen staying a mere meter from the door. He saw her drop her hood and had to squint to capture her features.

What stood out were the gentle curves along her cheek bones. Her small jaw was firm yet relaxed for the moment with chapped lips. Her eyebrows looked as if they've been groomed by a blind Rodian, for they were thick and moved natural. Next to her left eyebrow she wore a pinkish brown scar. An inch in length, Zen guessed. The most vivid component on her face, though, was her mud-puddle brown eyes. Eyes that opened up to the soul of Revan, both of the Republic's and Jedi's downfall and up rise. Now, Zen took in her full view. _Yep, still beautiful. Only Revan could keep her magnificence at its peak throughout so many wars. _He also noticed, though, that she was excessively thin. _Probably from whatever's in the water in the Unknown Regions._ He made a mental note to stock up well before taking off.

As he finished his full scan of the woman, he glanced up at her eyes only to notice that she's been doing her own analysis on him as well. After three heartbeats, she spoke in a more calming, feminine tone. "What shall I call you? I doubt you wish to keep title you had during the war."

"You may call me Zenith, or Zen." He said. "When people are angry, they usually call me Renar." He didn't know why he put the last part in. Most likely because he didn't want there to be any long silences between them.

"I'll note that."

"What name do you go by now? Do I still call you Revan?" Zen hoped he hadn't probed a sensitive topic upon her. He had heard the truth of what the Jedi Council did to her. He also had heard the truth of how and who told her of her true identity.

If the question bothered her, though, she showed no signs of it. "In public, or under possible watch, you may call me Alora Regana. That was the identity the Council had given me. I still have that Identi-Chip, so I'm still able to use it as a passport along the trade routes in Republic Space. However, when we're alone… you may call me Revan." There was a moment's pause as Zenith absorbed the new info. "You must have many questions you want answered."

"Yes, actually, I do." Seeming to have been given permission, he started to form his first question in his mind.

Her voice intruded his thoughts. "In time, they will be answered."

_Damn. Don't tell me I have to go on _another_ year long journey with _another_ cryptic woman…_

"At least I'm nice to look at." Zen looked up and noticed the muscles constrict slightly, revealing a smile on her face. Just then it hit him that she had read his mind. His head tilted downward and his cheeks went pink, which caused her to smile a moment longer.

"Alright," He said, tipping his head up when he was able to control the blood flow in his cheeks. "Enough mind tricks." His tone altered from friendly to serious. "What now? Where are we going? I'll follow you until the Force says no."

"I'll guarantee you this, Zenith, the Force won't say no until a very, very long time."

He nodded his head slowly and solemnly. "I understand, Revan."

"No, Alora. While we're on this station, you will call me Alora."

"Right, sorry."

'Alora' went straight to telling him the game plan. "First, we need the droids."

_Droids? What droids?_

"HK-47 and T3-M4. They traveled with you, did they not?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow as she went to a footlocker.

She had read his mind again. "Yes, they have. But what use are them to you? Kreia had said that you'd left behind the droids and your ship because you didn't need them."

"It's true; I did leave the droids behind." She began taking the few items in her footlocker and placed them in hidden compartments under her cloak and armor. "Though, I had to shut down HK, for he would loyal himself to no other 'meatbag'. So I kept him hidden in the storage compartment if he ever came in use again. As for T3, I was… told by a friend to keep him." For the first time in her presence, he noticed her hesitation. "He, he even told me to take the ship. He knew I'd need it to reach my destination."

Pieces of a puzzle began clicking inside his head. "The Ebon Hawk? _That _was your ship? Wasn't it being attacked by Sith remnants after the Harbinger picked it up?"

"Questions with answers that will come in time." She finished stocking herself and knelt by her bed, lifting the cushion. "Otherwise, we need those droids. I've placed vital information into them. T3 has stored in his memory core the safest hyperspace routes I've charted in the unknown system."

"Speaking of which, where exactly are we going?" Zen noticed Revan pull out 3 med packs from under her cushion along with a thin cylinder-looking object that she clicked into her belt.

"So. Many. Questions!" She droned as she stood up to face him. "Look, how about this? I'll answer all your questions once we're boarded on a ship with the droids and have plotted our course. Does that work with you?"

"Well-"

"Good." Now she walked over to another bed cushion and lifted it.

"Wait. There's a problem." He stated somewhat regretfully. "I… I don't think we'll find the droids… unless it's a microscopic piece of them."

Revan stopped her search under her bed for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

Zen sighed and rubbed his heating neck. "The rescue crew had never found them. They may have been tossed out of the ship during the crash, broken up and split apart during the Hawk's spin, or overheated and simply blown up. The chance of finding any piece of them worthwhile to you is very close to-"

"Don't tell me the odds."

Zen took a deep breath. "…Right, sorry."

Revan remained in the same knelt position for a few seconds, then continued her search under the cushion. It took a minute until Zen guessed she'd found what she'd been looking for. She held it out in her hands so he could see it.

It was cone-shaped, like a pyramid. It was a dark shiny black with distinct silver lines jaggedly gracing its sides. A holocron.

Zen wasn't even aware of it when he noticed he Force-pulled the object into his own hands. There was something about this ancient piece of tool that attracted him. His fingers grazed over the smooth material, the only friction was caused by the silver lining.

Unconsciously, Zen sat down at the edge of the bed where the holocron had been kept. At the bottom of the cone was a level button painted to match the rest of its body's exterior. Zen pressed it and watched the blue light emit from to top of the splitting cone to reveal…

…'_Stand by?'_

A little upset, he states, "It's empty."

Revan, who was now leaning back against the bed on the floor, acknowledged, "It's yours."

"Mine?" He gave her a perplexed look. "Why would I need a holocron?"

"Holocrons are the most old-fashioned technological technique used for communication. They are made to last for centuries. Once you place a code on them, they are a lock that cannot be picked. Don't make the same mistake I had when I left."

Zen's brows furrowed deeper, "I don't understand. What mistake?"

"I never had a proper farewell with my friends." Realization once again hit Zen. Revan gave him this holocron so he could record a message to his friends. To confirm to them that he is taking full grasp of his destiny, and for that, he may not come back. He could give them their orders; tell them that they're the Lost Jedi, and that they need to rebuild the order. But, more importantly, he could say thanks.

And goodbye, in a more suitable fashion.

Zen looked down at the empty holocron in his hands, its beam still glowing blue. He closed it, "Thank you."

"No problem," she replied as she stood up and walked over to the door. "Hey, I'll go scout out those droids. I'll leave you to your message. You'll have to find a way to deliver it, though, but don't take too long. Hopefully, I can get us a ship when I get back." The door hissed open with her touch. "Just be careful, we can't stay here for long. The security is thick, and they know I'm on station." She pulled her hood over her face.

Before the door had shut behind her, Zen whispered, "May the Force be with you, Alora."

'_Isn't it always?'_


	11. Droid Trick

Soooooo sorry for the longest update. First I stopped because of writer's block, then it was cuz I had testing, then it was just finishing up school, then it was soccer, and then it was the concussion I got from soccer. After that, I had a wonderful vacation in the mountains. Then I returned, ready to type, then I remembered. I'M IN A WRITER'S BLOCK! So I wrote some other stuff.

Again, sorry for the lengthy update, but at least its here.

**Chapter 11**

_Droid Trick_

It was big, rusty, burnt, scraped, chipped, and old. Canderous used to call it a propelling piece of junk the after Carth fixed it the first time.

In front of Revan sat the legendary ship that escaped Taris's bombardment, the Ebon Hawk.

The ruined ship lay in a hanger capacitated for one. However, with all the whirring mechanical droids, whining cranes, occupied workbenches, assembled pipes, steel staging, various wires, and power conducts, the place looked like a space vessel emergency room. Revan, who now wore a worn down grey and yellow inspector/mechanic uniform she got from a storage locker, made her way through the wire littered floor of the hanger.

Using the force as she walked, she searched for the two little hums of manmade machine she had known so well. Her touch crawled throughout the ship, peeling through its interior, gracing its shell, tunneling through crevices, searching for its intention, searching as an abandoned baby searches for its mother…

…And Revan found her destination.

_The _Storage _Compartment? How could they have missed the _Storage _Compartment? _Revan couldn't help but laugh at the thought. She knew that whoever orchestrated this ship's recovery hired the best of the galaxy to look over it, inspect it, clean it and patch it up. The fact that they didn't even _bother_ looking at the storage compartment…

_The Will of the Force works in mysterious ways…_

Revan now stood a mere two meters from the hull, looking for an entrance. She found a ladder near the closed loading ramp that seemed to disappear into a narrow hole along the ship's shell, and made her way over there.

Her steps froze when a mechanical voice sprung from her left.

"Halt, sir."

Revan grunted. Just because of her short hairstyle and baggy clothes, many people have mistaken her as a boy from a distance. Normally, Revan would just get over it quickly and correct them by simply adjusting her posture a bit, but now she didn't have the time. Besides, if the droid reported her to any of its superiors, the rusty old protocol would report the wrong gender, letting her movements go more about the stationundetected.

"State to me your business here with this vessel."

"Inspection."

"Inspection of this vessel has already been done two standard hours ago."

"I know this." Some say it's impossible to Mind Trick a droid because it's merely a machine. But during Revan's travels, she's found a way to work around that. "I was informed by them that they had missed a small section of the ship's interior." Using the Force, she began tenderly scratching at the droids memory core. "I was called in immediately to check upon the ship's status and do another analysis check upon it myself. I'm in a hurry."

Revan kept scratching at the droid's memory as it heard her words. "I was not informed of thissHzzz." Static started to emit out of the droid's vocabulator. _Oops. Scratched a little _too_ hard._

"I'm shzorry, but I ssszzhhheem to be exzshperienzshhhing a malfunczshhon." Tiny tornadoes of smoke slipped from various places out of the droids head.

Revan realized that her Droid Trick may not have failedas bad as she thought. "You should see the mechanic." She spoke, then turned and pointed far behind her. "He's all the way in Module 001, the very, _very_ far side of Citadel Station."

"Ishn't that the Reshycling Zshenter?"

Revan paused. "No. You're malfunctioning. The Recycling Center is in Module 032."

"Ishn't Module 032 the-"

"No! Just go to Module 001, you're master will be there, and he can fix you." _By the stars, is every droid this statistically stubborn now? All this thing needs is a heavy repeating blaster and an intimidating frame and it'll be like talking to HK again!_

"Yezsh, zir. I'll report to Module 001 on the very, very far zshide of Zshitadel Zshtation." Its mechanical joints scratched and whirred as it awkwardly walked off heading towards the exit.

"Thank you." Revan let out a breath, relieving much stored stress, and strolled over to what seemed like the entrance to the ship was; a ladder leading up a narrow hole through the Hawk's hull.

Gripping the ladder, her slim frame climbed up it and through the narrow gap. Various scents, all not incredibly flattering, wove into her nostrils. But it was the sight, not the smell, that nearly overwhelmed her.

The interior was dimly lit with green glow pads stuck on the ceiling, walls and floor. The paint, if the bird originallyeven had any, was completely gone. The walls couldn't even be considered walls anymore for their panels were ripped out or torn off, revealing the organs of the ship. Those that were still in place, however, didn't comfort the eyes, for they were either burnt, stained, eroded, or being intentionally taken off by the workers previously here. Few of the lights the Ebon Hawk originally had still remained, but all in sight were broken. The crews probably took them out to avoid any electrical hazards. No lights came from the ship itself, enhancing the feeling of walking through a technological skeleton.

Revan finally pulled herself fully into the ship, breathing in the stale air. She smelled several different gasses waft the place, but sensed none of them lethal to her. She leaned against the wall, letting her eyes adjust to the visual before her, as if all she saw on first sight was an illusion. A part of her knew that her ship would be this way, which was her logical thinking. But the other part of her, the emotional part, just… could conceive this. The Hawk was her home. No cozy apartment or a fine-looking planet could make her think otherwise. This vessel has been on every journey _Alora_ has taken and nearly on every journey the _New_ Revan has taken. It carried so many memories within its withered shell…

And she almost lost it to the Sith.

_Snap out of it, girl! C'mon, you got a galaxy to save! …Again._

Revan leaned off the wall and started walking down the corridor into the main room. She thought it would be best if she stared at her feet, for she knew her emotions would get the best of her if she looked at the adjusted scenery of the Ebon Hawk. She felt her way over to the storage compartment, which was slammed tight and seemed jammed. Revan expanded her senses to the other side of the door.

Relieved, she still felt the two presences she's been searching for. Gently, she tickles T3's sensors and alerts him that his master has finally arrived. She feels rapid impulses suddenly shoot through his circuitry, reflecting his excitement of leaving his unintentional prison. Revan openly smiles at the astromech's reaction and reaches out for HK…

But something didn't feel right.

Something felt off. Literally. Revan could find the hum of his memory core, but not feel the motors in his fingers, arms, and legs and such. But he still existed.

Revan heard the loud screeches of a crane outside and reminded herself to hurry. Igniting her flamboyant purple lightsaber, she pierced her saber through the storage door and began cutting half a semi-circle from the ground to just above a meter in length. The drag produced by the density of thick door slowed her down immensely, but the aroma of melting durasteel told her that she was making progress.

Within half a minute, she was 3 quarters done and could hear spastic whirring from an astromech droid on the other side. Revan gritted her teeth, _Almost there…_

_---_

"This is a restricted area. Only TSF officers and employees are allowed access." The TSF guard replied almost robotically.

Zenith stood in front of the man in the same garments he had on when he left the medical facility. He was risking detection, but he possessed no other clothing to disguise himself. Actually, he had no other clothing at all, since he never received back his inventory he had carried on the previous journey.

"Sir, I don't need access, but I have a possession that does. I need it delivered to a specific patient of Dr. Kurn's." Zen maintained a cool attitude while the TSF guard got sick of debating after the last thirty minutes of talking to him.

"Honestly, do I look like a mail carrier to you?"

"It is a simple request."

"And this is a simple rejection. Security here has heightened. Do you know how many inspections they do now? Getting eaten by a krayt dragon is less torturous then inspecting _item_ after _item_ after _item_ that is passed through the station. If you want it to get past here, get it inspected, give me the documents of it being done as proof, and _then_ you could have your mail carrier. Can you work with that, little man?"

Truth was, Zen was 1.86 meters tall while the guard ranged from 1.91-1.94 meters tall. Ignoring the supposed insult, Zen, as a last resort, waved his fingers. "I passed the inspection."

Suddenly looking hypnotic, he numbly replied, "You passed the inspection."

With more concentration, Zen added, "You will find a way to deliver this to…" Zen, ever so briefly, paused. Who should he deliver it to? Ever since the Revan rumors outbreak, his friends have been split into separate rooms for safety. How would they all get to see his message? "…a patient of Dr. Kurn's, Bao-Dur, an Iridonian. Tell him it's from the General."

Eyes glazed, the man simply nodded and took the case Zen handed to him. The Exile turned and left back to Revan's apartment to stay low until she called for him.

---

"T3, c'mon!" Revan yelled behind her as she ran down a narrow isolated corridor. T3-M4 ran along as fast as his four wheels would take him, but the immense luggage he carried seriously slowed the droid down. T3 whirrs a complaint.

"You're the one who shut-down HK for reasons yet to be explained." Revan reached out behind T3, closing a stronghold door, locking it, and crushing the panel with the Force. Apparently, going into the Ebon Hawk alone without permission was conspicuous to the eyes of a security cam and leaving the ship with an unknown T3 unit and a shut-down HK assassin droid tied behind it was a serious head-scratcher. In other words, as soon as Revan set three feet outside of the hanger, security forces began chasing them down.

Not knowing the area, Revan was at a disadvantage. But the Force led her this way, it was whispering in her ear of the route she should take. Revan listened to its call and obeyed while mentally lifting most of the weight of HK's limp structure off T3's back so he could travel faster. T3 whistled an _'about time'_ and went through a door Revan had opened for him.

Revan checked their backs and could hear bashing against the door she justjammed. She guessed it would be another six to seven minutes until they got the door open.

_Unless they have explosives. I'm not being negative, I'm just considering all the options. _She thought as she closed and locked this door as well. Revan turned around and nearly stumbled over a still T3.

"Geez, T3! Ok, I may be the Hero and the Horror of the galaxy, but right now, I have too many things on my mind and I can't sense every—"Revan's heart nearly stopped at the sight before her.

It was beautiful. In every way, it was beautiful.

Revan stood in a personal hanger empty of everything but a ship.

What stood in front of her eyes was a clone of her home.

It was the twin sister of the Ebon Hawk, but instead of a redhead, ithad a deep, ocean blue head. Yet all of its characteristics were the exact same, if not better. The vessel bares no stains on its silver and blue paint. It was a bird waiting to fly.

Crackling static on an overhead speaker is what knocked her out of her trance.

"Take her."

That voice. She's heard it before.

"Take her and finish you're journey."

_Carth? _Revan tried saying his name out loud, but her throat suddenly parched.

---

Zen sat meditating in the corner of the dimly lit apartment when he heard the call.

'_It's time.'_ She called. _'It's time to go.'_

_---_

Worth the wait? I tried my best.

I'd truly love anyone who could help me with this little problem I have... How the heck to you talk in the forums! I've been on here for a few months, and I still can't figure it out! So if you could help me?... You know...

I'll give you a virtual cookie


	12. Gathering

**I just realized I forgot to put a disclaimer.**

**DISCLAIMER-I own NOTHING. Just playing with Lucas's and Obsidian's toys... don't worry, I'll put them back.**

**Chapter 12**

_Gathering_

"…_Kriff."_

"Pure pazaak."

"_Just cannit, you scruffy-looking smuggler."_

"That's _Mister_ Scruffy-Looking Smuggler to you."

"_Atton, I know you cheated. Even a hologram can't hide that impish glint in your eye."_

"How can I cheat? We're playing through via HoloNet."

"_You downloaded special cards, didn't you?"_

"Oh, tsk tsk, Mira. Such a sore loser…"

Atton waved his index finger at Mira as if she were a child caught by a parent stealing cookies from the cookie jar. The TSF still didn't allow contact between the recovering crew members because of some unexplained reason. However, a bored Atton requested a datapad with HoloNet access so he could play virtually with gamers across the galaxy. Because it's on the Net, points, instead of credits, are the stakes. Points, like credits, can buy you certain cards. However, it wasn't long before the elemental game gathered hackers, who found out how to download points, rather then earn them, and buy cards unfairly. Of course, the game was made for fun, and for people to pass time, so the cheating truly didn't matter as long as your opponent didn't get angry.

So, Atton played the game to pass time, and who's not better to pass the time with than a lovely Jedi/Bounty Hunter who can curse in both Basic and Huttese?

"_I'm _not_ a sore loser, nerf-herder! I've just never been as experienced in that category as you have."_ Mira flaunted, cupping a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Atton displayed a mischievous lopsided grin, obviously showing he translated her meaning of _experienced_ in a dirty way.

Mira didn't need to use her abilities to read Atton's mind. _"You're lucky you're several modules away from my rocket-launcher."_

Atton laughed. _Pazaak's a beautifully filthy game. _He recited after any game he won in cheating.

Because they allowed no present eye-to-eye contact between their comrades, Atton tried the next best thing. Knowing Mira knew how to use a HoloNet, he contacted her through the Force and nudged her into playing. Atton would've asked Bao-Dur, but his turns took so _long_…

"Thinking about me?"

"Wow! Bao?" Atton, at first, startled, wondered how the Zabrak could sneak up on him like that. Atton didn't even hear the door to his quarter open.

"Sorry," came his even voice as he limped into the room. "You were occupied, and I couldn't resist."

"_Hey, Atton? Is that our little Iridorian?"_ Mira asked from the flat screen. Bao-Dur was out of view, but the microphones picked up his voice easily.

"Yeah," Atton replied, flipping his datapad so Mira could see their companion, then asked, "We're in lockdown, how'd you get in?"

"Using manners and being polite can get you far, Atton." The Zabrak countered, resting his sore knee by sitting in a chair.

"Really?" Atton cocked an eyebrow. "How far?"

"Far enough."

Mr. Scruffy-Looking-Smuggler wasn't satisfied. "How far is enough?"

"Well," Bao-Dur shrugged. "I only had to debilitate the last two guards."

"_Impressive." _Mira applauded

"I had thought so as well." The Zabrak failed hiding a minor smirk at the remark. "But don't worry, when the Admiral knows of our reason for doing this, my little unplanned departure of my quarters will go unnoticed."

"What, we going somewhere?" Atton asked, interest now peaked as he leaned forward.

"Somewhere, but not off station, as of yet." Bao-Dur answered.

Mira's distorted image on the datapad looked confused, _"What do you mean?"_

Bao-Dur's face grew serious. "The crew needs to gather. The General has left us something."

- - -

"I was _sleeping_." Atton moaned as he limped on his splinted foot towards the center of a lengthy room.

A deep, gruff voice replied to Atton's complaint, "Sleepin's a luxury, kid. Luxuries are a rarity in a warrior's life."

"So what life are luxuries common?"

"Boys, please…" pleaded a female Jedi.

Both Canderous and Atton stopped their bickering and turned their attention to the lady who addressed them. Bastila, several years older than the last time the Mandalorian had seen her, was still as enchanting as she was when he first saw her. Minus her narrow-stubborn-goody-good-Jedi-like view of life and the galaxy, and a subtraction of his own age, Canderous might've liked the woman. _Who knows?_ He figured. Their current relationship wasn't really built of likeness or common interests, but more like a respect shared between two fighters who looked death in the eye several times and lives to retell it.

"Almost everyone's here," stated Carth after doing a headcount. After nearly a week, the recuperating crew of the Ebon Hawk was allowed to gather. It had only been a mere four hours ago when station security was put on alert when the patient, Bao-Dur, left his quarters prematurely without notification or permission. Called out of a meeting with the Ithorians based upon the Restoration Project is when the Admiral was notified of this. It took half-an-hour to locate the Zabrak, who gave no resistance into returning to his room, but demanded verbal attention from Carth. To satisfy him, Carth allowed him a datapad to record the message he wanted to so desperately send to the Admiral. An hour later, it was delivered to Carth.

And not long after the short message was complete, Carth made immediate arrangements to gather all members of the crew, despite the horrible time of night it was.

Carth just _had_ to see what was in the holocron.

Bao-Dur, meditating on the hard floor next to a plush sofa in Carth's private accommodation, said, "She's here."

Within moments, the entrance to Carth's home slipped open as gracefully as an awakening eyelid, revealing the last of who was to come to the meeting.

Brianna, draped in white, entered the room.

Atton strode over to the Admiral's desk and sat on the edge. "Goody. Can we start now?" Atton asked, lack of sleep mirroring his lack of patience. Carth eyed him for a moment, then glanced at where Atton was sitting, then looked back up at Atton again, crossing his arms.

Getting the gesture, Atton slid off the table.

"What's this about?" the handmaiden asked. "You're escort was vague on details."

"You'll see." Carth answered, realizing that another hazy answer was only beginning to irritate the young Jedi. "Bao-Dur?" Carth looked off to the Zabrak's direction.

"It is time." He simply stated. To Carth, the alien seemed to be acting more cryptic since receiving the holocron then from before.

Mira, stepping out of the Iridonian's way, rolled her eyes upward as everyone automatically gathered around the center of the room. "_Why_ do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"The feeling's mutual, sister." Replied Canderous as his hover chair drifted next to her.

Force pulling a small side-table to the center of the circle they made, Bao-Dur, placed a mysterious cone-shaped item on top of it after pressing an unseen button. Bao-Dur soon backed away, standing alert next to their pilot.

Seeing the dark shaped figure shiver for a moment before the top of the pyramid began to show rays of blue, it registered to Atton as to what his friend had been holding.

An accusing glare at Bao-Dur, Atton asks, "What in Hutt's slime is-?!"

"Shove it, Atton!" Mira elbowed him hard enough in the ribs for him to lose his breath before he could retort.

All eyes were nailed to the holocron as the blue rays began to brighten and focus, creating a mist of light over the table.

And soon, the emission of light began to graph itself and molded into a humanoid figure.

Breathing of every being froze as the figure became recognizable.

"The exile…" Carth exhaled.

- - -

**I blame a writer's block, 3 months of a concussion, sports and my first high school year for the lack of updates on this story.**

**I am incredibly busy, but I haven't forgotten about this story. I do plan on continuing it now, but, updates will be slow :(**

**Please review anyway, it's what'll keep me going. :)**


	13. So, This Is Goodbye

**Hey, I updated within a week, isn't that somethin'?**

**Ok, no reviews, but nearly 400 more hits since my last update. So, I'm assuming _someone's _reading this and enjoying it. Well, keep the hits comin', and review if you please...**

**Chapter 13**

_So, This is Goodbye_

Static is what greeted them first. _"szchh…ello, my friends."_ The voice came out slightly distorted, for most holocrons weren't known for high definition.

It didn't matter; the crew members still knew who it was.

The hologram continued, _"If you are hearing this, it probably means that I and Revan had already left. And I beg you, do _not_ follow me."_

That last report was highly expected from the audience, but it didn't make the hurt of being left behind any less.

As if letting them absorb his words, the exile continued his speech after a pause, _"You all have helped me a great deal during our journey together. I will never forget your deeds. I will never forget your loyalty. And I certainly will never forget _you_."_

The air was thick with emotion. Brianna's eyes turned glossy, _So, this is goodbye…_She thought mournfully

"_This is the first time, I believe, I wished I were a politician." _Zen pulled a handsome quirk smile, just to lighten the mood. _"It would make giving my gratitude to you all a lot easier. But nothing over this past year has ever been easy, so I'll just pour my guts out to all of you." _Raising his hand in warning, he added,_ "Beware, this could get mushy."_

Atton stood tall for a man of his height, listening, but his hands fidgeted hysterically. Mira stood solid next to him, arms crossed. Only her swelling eyes betrayed every frame of composure her body exposed. Canderous, on her left, sat in the hover chair, jaw set, eyes fixed, and knuckles white from gripping the edges of his seat too hard. Brianna, who moved from behind the group near the Mandalorian, didn't hide her grief at the exile's inevitable farewell. Bao-Dur, now sitting on a sofa at the right hand of the group, was as serene as ever, soft sapphire eyes gazing upon his leader. Bastila positioned herself east of the exile's vision, hands clasped behind her back, chin high and eyes capturing the scene like two holocams, registering and processing the data being displayed. Carth stood in front of his chair alertly leaning over his desk, two brown hairs brushing his forehead, listening intently to the shimmering hologram. The man's angle of the exile was of the back, this being intentionally done so he had all of the room's occupants in view.

The Admiral saw Zenith sidestep back and forth, as if collecting his thoughts. Then, the exile's hands folded behind his lower spine, shoulders now pulled rear, his back straightened, unshaven chin made parallel to the floor, and expanded his chest through his robe-like garments.

Canderous admired the Force-User's perfect militaristic posture.

"_Atton," _Atton's back flattened at the sound of his name,_ "you were the first to journey with me on this quest. No offense, but I thought of you quite lowly when we first met. Prison cells can make a grand impression. But your skills at the trigger and the keyboard quickly changed my original thoughts. You could fight, Atton. You never gave up. You're endurance is endless… sober or not." _Zen had a lopsided grin on his face, remembering a certain occasion on the _Hawk_ when Atton incessantly interrogated Zen about which women on the crew he'd rather see bare.

"Good times…" rolled off Atton's tong as he smiled, remembering the same occasion.

"_In the end, Atton, you were an incredible fighter. I dug through that dense head of yours and found intelligence. _Don't_ let your past take away your future._

"_Atton Rand, you have passed your trial. As your Master, I now grant you worthy of the title Jedi Knight."_

The newly anointed Knight's chest expanded with pride at his master's and friend's words.

"_May the Force be with you," _Zen curtly bowed his head. _"Always."_

The cocky pilot flexed his mechanical hand, determined to not displease his Master.

Posture perfect, the exile continued, _"Bao-Dur," _The Zabrak slightly raised himself in his seat, _"The second to ride along for the journey. The three words to describe you would be 'composed' 'beyond' 'belief'."_

Bao-Dur chuckled while Mira shook her head and stated, "So true."

After holding a brief smile to himself, Zenith continued, _"You and I are quite alike in many ways. We fought together, for one. We've seen each other from our darkest of times to the lightest. Our shoulders have carried a similar burden for a lengthy amount time, yet we both got through it. You were one of the few beings in my life that actually understood me, understood my past. And your delicate way of handling sensitive conversations makes it hard to think you'd even harm a gizka."_

"True again." Mira pointed out.

"And it's _so annoying_…" Atton groaned, remembering an exchange he had had with the Zabrak questioning about him of his past. Atton didn't know whether to shoot him or sit in his lap and cry about his dark history.

Though the brief banter was fun to listen to, there were no pause buttons on holocrons, so Bao-Dur prodded them to be silent.

"_Bao-Dur, it would be sin if I weren't to grant you the rank you deserve."_

"_Congratulations, your trial is passed. Welcome to Knighthood."_

Faith in his abilities now put on a high, Bao-Dur was ready to take on the galaxy. _I won't let you down._

Zenith silenced himself for a moment, letting the Zabrak absorb his new title, then continued after a deep breath.

"_The third being to join us," _few eyes expectantly flowed to the figure adorned in white, _"Brianna."_

The exile paused slightly after saying her name. His head drooped as he allowed himself time to think. There were suspicions among the group that perhaps there was something going on between the exile and the handmaiden. Of course, there was also a slight suspicion of him and the Miraluka as well. In the end, Zenith was thought of having at least _some_ fling with any of the females part of the crew.

Minus Kreia, of course.

Naturally, thoughts and guesses cannot be thought of as facts.

"_You came unexpectedly to our group."_ The image of the tall human faded slightly, then brightened to its normal hue. _Must be an old holocron,_ Bao-Dur surmised.

"_Intelligent, graceful, and an artist at combat, your skills were a grand bonus to the group. You thought wisely before taking action, and for that, you wiped the floor with Atton at Pazaak."_

This drew a grin and a chuckle or two from everyone but Atton. "Hey, she hustled me!" he attempted to sound innocent.

Brianna did smile, remembering the good times briefly. But her mind was stuck on the future… _Zen... will I ever see him again?_

"_A wonderful woman you are, Brianna. You will do well at the rank of Jedi Knight."_

Curtly bowing her head at the recorded hologram, she replied, emotion at the edge of her voice, "I shall not fail you."

"_You will do well on your own."_

…'_on your own'… _Brianna's head exploded with emotion, but she kept her thoughts walled in and stance firm. _Is he abandoning me? Is he not coming back?..._ Perhaps she's overacting, but she couldn't dwell on it for long, as Zen continued his speech.

The exile seemed to rebuild his martial stance as he moved on to the next crew add-on. _"Canderous,"_

The Mandalorian, unlike himself, flinched for a moment, the surprise of hearing his true name or the suspense of waiting for it might have caused his reaction. He listened intently, though, knowing that at the end of _this_ speech it won't end in him going into Knighthood.

"_I can never thank you enough for letting me ride that Basilisk War Droid down to Iziz."_

The warrior let loose a deep chuckle from his throat, remembering his first descent in the same machine.

"_You were the fourth. An old man like you can sure as hell fight. Your size of muscle and blaster rifle certainly helped us in those fights against numbers. It was hard to adjust to working with man of a race I had tried so passionately to make extinct, but the effort did go without regret. Only one question hangs in my mind, though. Please, _why_ didn't you tell me you traveled with _Revan_ before_?!"

All eyes of the surprised crew members were suddenly on the crippled warrior.

"What? You never asked." He replied to their questioning glances.

Many in the room were about to throw a fit but ceased the attempt when they realized Zen hadn't stopped talking.

"…_figured that out I went nearly ballistic. You're good, Canderous, and I like the about you. Smart, experienced, you know combat, and even mortality can't stop you from entering deadly battles. So, I grant you the rank of 'Likeability', in my book. _Seruu lada _Mandalore."_

_Long live Mandalore._ Canderous was impressed, and a little honored at being _likeable_.

"_And last, not least, but certainly the shortest," _The ex-bounty hunter glowered while the hologram smirked, as if picking up on her reaction,_ "Mira."_

"_You've been an asset in many ways, you have no idea. You're rocket launcher has saved Atton's rear end so many times I lost count." _Now it was Atton who glowered, but got a friendly elbow-to-ribs from Mira to make him not retort. _"Heh, Mira, you were the push of the group. And no, I don't mean _pushy_, but… ugh, this is why I wish I were better with words…" _Zen lost his perfect stance for a moment as he began to rub his temple. _It's like; you're the _life _of the group. Through all the fighting we have to go through, for all the death we have to create, your attitude… you bring our thoughts around the horrible life-threatening things we have to do day after day. You keep the heart pumping through the group. You give us a good laugh here and there._

"_You make things a little less… quiet."_

"Yeah, you're snoring is as loud as your rocket lau--" Mira glared bullets at Atton, "—Never mind."

"_I'll never forget the banter we had, and I'll never forget the obstacles you had to jump to get to where you are now."_

_"Mira, _the_ Top Bounty Hunter of Nar Shaddaa," _The red-head girl held her breath, knowing what he would say next.

"_I grant you the honored rank of Jedi Knight."_

Mira felt cold and shivered. Life the way she knew it has made a 180 degree turn.

The exile looked about to finish, but then his eyes seemed to light up as he recalled something. _"Revan..." _He mumbled softly, just barely audible for the holocron to project. _"Tell Carth... she still thinks of him. It's almost over."_

Carth had absolutely no doubt his heart had stopped. _Revan still loves me... after all this time... _Various emotions of relief flooded his mind.

Little time was left to dwell on what had just been told of them, the exile, their leader, was concluding perhaps his final speech...

"_I am proud of all of you. You are my friends, and were my Learners. I know you will do good for the galaxy. I let you go along your own paths from here on out. You can stick together, or you can dissipate. The choice is yours. Follow the Force, it will serve you well."_

His image in the hologram flickered as the exile's head sagged slightly. Eventually he rose up, eyes sunken and tired, new lines marking his face. Forcing a feigned smile, his lips move slowly to form his final words.

"_So, I guess this is goodbye."_

The halo of blue above him began to shrink as his body began to disfigure from head down. The black pyramid reflecting its blue dying light vibrated with its effort. The holocron sipped the remaining beam into itself, leaving nothing behind.

Only the failing hopes of that the exile will survive his long journey remained.

- - -

**-Just pointing out that I totally made up the 'Long Live Mandalore' translation.**

**-To lovers of Visas, well, first off, I'm sorry, but her role isn't done here. Don't think she dies and floats away. Even dead, she still makes an important role. Just be patient, and you'll see.**


	14. The Eyes of the Galaxy

**Ok, usually, my updating isn't as consistant as this, but hey, if it satisfies my readers...**

**Thank thee very much for the reviews. They make my day and pump me up to type another chapter.**

**Dante-Raven;** Very glad to know your still reading, and thanks for the comment :)

**Jedi Knight Kel Axmiris;** Happy my writing has some sort of effect on you. And stealing? Eh, I don't really care, as long as it's not my candy. (Lifesavers are _the_ best)

**Crimson-88;** Thanks for the comment. As for Bindo? Well, I hadn't really thought of that. But you're right about one thing, it _would _be interesting to see him lecture the exile and/or Revan. Heh, I just thought of this, you know who needs a lecture from Bindo?

Bush

**On to the story...**

**Chapter 14**

_The Eyes of the Galaxy_

"_The universe… it's so _big_." Exclaimed a youth boy with shady hair._

"_Thirteen years of your life, and you just notice?" replied a girl, who stood about three inches taller then the youngster._

_Two padawans sauntered among the vast plains of Dantooine, craning their heads up at the night sky. The duo moons stood out like studs in the atmosphere, giving a magnificent holo-perfect picture for the tourists who never came._

_Letting the smooth evergreen grass crinkle under his boots, the boy added, "I wonder how many planets there are out there…"_

_The girl, not as enticed at the scene as her friend, responded, "Probably as many as the days Master Vandar existed."_

_The boy laughed in reply, "No, not _that_ many."_

"_Well, no one can prove me wrong. Now, c'mon, Zen, we have to go back to the Enclave. We're late enough as it is. Master Vrook will pop a vein if he catches us." The human girl turned on her heals, hoping that Zenith would follow her lead._

"_Master Vrook popping a vein isn't that uncommon." Countered the padawan as he plopped himself on the ground, eyes remaining on the distant stars. "I wonder if anyone's ever been to them all."_

_The girl's pupils waved across the stars as she reluctantly placed her thin frame on the ground next to the boy. "I'm assuming _you_ want to be the first to do so?"_

"_Maybe."_

"_Always the adventurous one…" The girl absently waved her hand as she began counting the white specks in the sky._

"_I don't know, Sats." Sats, Satikara's nickname, has never seen Zen this transfixed before. The two had been friends ever since their move from Coruscant to Dantooine. Both had been picked to be trained by a Council member; Zenith under Master Vandar and Satikara under Master Zhar. "Looking up there, it makes you realize how small you really are…"_

_Satikara nodded her head in agreement, "Well, true, especially if you're only 5 feet and 2 inches."_

"_I'm growing, and I'll be taller then you in no time."_

"_Keep dreaming, shortie, I'm still growing, too."_

_Zen laughed softly, enjoying their rivalry in height, but continued to gaze up at the dark abyss, speckled by white with tiny tongs of yellow licking the never ending empty space vacuum._

"_It's so big." He repeated, "To think that there are billions upon billions of other beings out there… and every one of them could be looking right back at us."_

_Sats has never thought about that before._

"_It's like… the stars and planets… they're eyes." Zen began to lie down on his back as he experienced his revelation. "Millions and millions of eyes, all unblinking. They see _everything_."_

'Creepy,'_ is how Satikara wanted to respond, but her flash sarcasm was put to a halt. She wanted to hear the rest of Zen's theory._

"_The Eyes of the Galaxy…" Zen's youthful cerulean eyes reflected the night sky. "I bet they can foresee things, I bet that they can see the future. But we'll never know, because eyes can't speak…_

"_Someday, someday I'll see what they see; I'll know what they know. I'll see every act of treachery and put an end to it, I'll bring peace to the Republic. I could even map out the Unknown Regions, the universe… find new homes for the still wandering refugees of the war with Exar Kun… I could—"_

"Do anything_?" Satikara finished._

"_Well…"_

"_Zen?"_

"_What?"_

"_I think, you know, _'seeing all',_ is called dying and becoming one with the Force."_

_Zen sighed irritably, getting up from his horizontal position, mind finally letting go of his reverie. "Sats, you always know how to bring an abrupt end to a conversation."_

"_What can I say? I'd rather act then speak." Seeing the hurt look in his eyes, she added, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rip up your opinions like that. It was a good speech, really. I'm just so _tired_. And though I do like to see Master Vrook's face grow ten shades redder, it's his continuous discussion of needed discipline and following the Code that can take up about 3 hours of my beauty rest."_

_Zen chuckled, knowing that Satikara was exaggerating, but he got up and turned towards the Enclave nonetheless._

_Happy to see him not angry with her and him walking back towards their home, she added, "I'll thank you in the morning if we don't get caught."_

_A lopsided grin, a trait he was famous for, lit his face as he quickly paced back to his destination._

_Oblivious to it all, the Eyes of the Galaxy were looking upon him, setting his future into motion…_

- -

Zenith Renar snapped out of his flashback of his childhood days and stared out of the canopy.

_Satikara T'piik, _Zen recalled.

"…_I'd rather act then speak…"_

She died in the Battle of Dxun.

Zenith had grieved over her death terribly throughout the war; she was a sister to him, maybe even more.

Putting his mind to the present, Zen began counting the clicks in the hyperdrive as he recalled the recent events that had brought him to this point;

After receiving the call to go from Revan, Zen followed the Force and made his way to the hanger containing the latest freighter, _Blue Fang_. Apparently, Admiral Onasi missed his old _Ebon Hawk_, so he managed to get his hands on the blueprints and was able to create a look-a-like with a new paint job. Just as agile and fast as its predecessor, the _Fang _carried lighter ion drives, however, they packed just as much of a punch as its mother. The ship was sleeker looking, its head and body covered in sapphire blue and monotonous silver. The vessel's insides remained the same with the dormitories in the wings, engine room at the rear, med bay at the heart, cockpit at the head, cargo hold at the left starboard and garage hold at the right. All looked the same, only updated. A satisfying difference, however, was the dual quad lasers at the top _and_ bottom of the transport, something the _Hawk _didn't have.

It wasn't long after the exile touched the ramp that Revan started to take off. Against his predictions, though, there was no aerial pursuit on the stolen _Fang_. In fact, once off-station, there was no resistance _at all_.

Zen had headed to the cockpit to find the Jedi Hero at the controls, as well as his aging T3 unit behind the pilot, its arm extended and attached to the ship's brain.

"_Why isn't anyone following us?"_

"_Tracer, no doubt. Find anything on the hull, T3?"_

_The astromech whirred a negative._

"_Check the internal part of the ship, also." Zen added._

_The T3 unit replied in a way that sounded to Zen like _'Hold your suubatars.'

"_So, did you deliver your message?" She asked while punching in hyperspace coordinates he's never seen before._

"_I believe it was successfully received."_

"_Good to know." She replied, still looking at the controls. "T3, bring up the astrogation chart, we're going to jump to Haven 1."_

_T3 buzzed a happily sounding reply._

"Haven 1?_" the dark haired man asked, "Code name?"_

"_Yippee, I picked up a smart one." She answered flatly. "That's right, it's a code name for the safest place in the unknown regions. Also containing our allies."_

_Zen sighed a relief at hearing the word 'allies'. "Who are they? What are they like?" The Jedi found himself suddenly eager to reach this destination._

_He heard Revan take a deep sigh, then she craned her neck towards him from her seat. "Let me get us into hyperspace first, then I'll answer your questions." She saw Zen's face twist into a doubtful look. It seemed so far on their short amount of time together that Revan would put whatever she could between his questions and her answers. In truth, she was, but if they were to succeed together, she had to drop that barrier. She had to tell him everything. "You have my word, Renar."_

_Zen, while biting his tong, nodded his head. "Okkie dokkie." And sat down in the co-pilot's chair._

It wasn't long until she ordered him to strap in and they leapt to hyperspace.

It was then Zenith had turned to the ex-Sith Lord and asked endless questions. Her answers were like lectures, lengthy with big words, but far from boring. Revan had become powerful with the Force during her time in the Unknown Regions. She learned new techniques, styles, and philosophies. Things that puzzled Jedi Masters came easily to her. Like the Mind Trick on droids. True, droids don't have minds. But what do they have that replicates them? That's right, a memory core. Scratch it the right way, cutting off certain electrical pulses, and suddenly the droid is a little less curious and a little more obedient. Another trick was her Force Camouflage, something she used to hide her presence in the Force and her face from people who might recognize it, like she did with Canderous. Irritate the retinas and activate the tear ducts and suddenly you've got blurry eyes that can't focus when looking upon you.

When he asked how Revan had got him out of his coma, she merely stated in her simple voice that all she did was _wake him up_. Like what Kreia had done with him on Peragus. She said his awakening would've been more peaceful if she hadn't been disturbed by the TSF, but she understood Canderous's reaction. He was shocked, and it took quite a bit to shock a Mandalorian.

And at last Zen asked about their allies. Were they battle capable? What are their specialties? Are they intelligent? Are they Force-sensitive? Are they in any relations to the Sith? How will they help us? Will they fight along side us? What are they called? What's they're origin? Is Haven 1 their homeworld?

Question after question came answer after answer. Soon, Zenith knew everything. He knew what had happened, and what would happen.

Revan had searched and brought him along for the final battle against the Sith, a final battle that he'd spend months training for on Haven 1, under Revan. Zenith would get to know their allies, learn their language, understand their capabilities, and be taught how to fight with them and their living technologies.

Reaching the present, Zenith's eyes were pasted upon what lay beyond the canopy.

The planet was beautiful with each hemisphere expressing cold, fine, and hot climate.

The planet and her people spurned with the Force, its glow brighter then the death of a star system.

It was Haven 1.

It was Yuuzhan'tar, home planet of their allies in the Unknown Regions, the Yuuzhan Vong.

The Eyes of the Galaxy watched as Zenith Renar's destiny begins to unravel...

- -

**(for those of you who read the New Jedi Order series) Confused? Good. This is where things start to get interesting... ;)**

**Answers to possible question that may be wandering among your mind;**

**Yuuzhan Vong Force-Sensitive/Exist within the Force? Yes, and that's not a typo**


	15. A Gift, Not a Curse

Well, this was quite a lengthy update. All I can really say is sorry, that I've been busy with personal and family chaos, transfering schools and whatnot. Moving on from my problems, I grant you the long awaited for marvelous drum roll, please Chapter 15...

**Chapter 15**

_A Gift, Not a Curse_

Everything is black.

In this total blackness, there are white speckles of light, scattered among themselves amid random intervals. Stained mists are emitted from its bulb-like core, twirling amongst itself, as a flailing child would with a wand of ribbons. The mists act as an ethereal barrier, coated in blues, yellows, whites, reds, and yet more colors that even the human eye can't distinguish.

It is beautiful.

It is breath-taking.

It is the Eyes of the Galaxy.

They see _everything_.

What is it that these Eyes see today, we wonder?

They see the bustling hover streets of the city of Coruscant, they see a pack of pirates parading a smuggler's ship along the Hydian Way, they see a taras-chi insect finally break through the dusty surface of Kessel, they see an Acklay crunching its pincers into its prey and making a victorious scream that echoes throughout Felucia's surface, they see so _much_…

They are _omnino-conspectus velas_.

An ancient, now unused language, meaning _All-Seeing Eyes_.

If these Eyes had pupils, it would be visible to outsiders that these Eyes were in focus.

Everything among their peripheral vision was of no importance to them at this point in time, like the crawling insect, the parading pirates, the teeming traffic in the cities of Coruscant...

The Eyes of the Galaxy paid no mind to such activities.

What were they watching? What event is occurring that has attracted such a massive, silent audience?

One Eye was the focus; one Eye was being gazed upon, one Eye was being the center of interest upon the billions of observers watching it.

That Eye's name was Yuuzhan'tar, home planet of the exotic species, the Yuuzhan Vong.

Storm clouds crept across the southern hemisphere towards the mountains, as if the planet were blushing from its attention.

Not far from the clouds, deep down to the surface, beyond the thick vegetation and kilometers of long plains, up high upon the plateaus which became jointed with the mountains…

…Was a man.

His name was Zenith.

The Eyes of the Galaxy are watching.

- - -

The day was almost done; the sun was setting between the peeks of the jagged mountains. Zenith glanced back from his climbing position only to see storm clouds threatening to take up the position that the sun had just left.

"Two days." The words seemed to spit out of his mouth as his right arm reached up to pull him aloft the edge of an almost ninety degree angle cliff.

Pulling his body over the boundary without Force use, he added in a rough voice, "Two _kriffin' _days!"

Zen lay exhausted on the rocky landscape as anger started to swell inside him. Feeling the familiar sensation, the man closed his mind and focused.

He concentrated on his emotions, all very broad at the core of his torso. Zen was allowing them to be thick, letting them thrash about. Then, he focused on his tired, withered-looking legs…

And suddenly Zenith was standing on his feet, legs revitalized and mind clear. Revan had taught him the trick of converting anger to energy, something far easier than what the Council had taught him about anger control.

"_Peace, there is. Center, you must find." _He recalled Master Vandar's lessons.

To Zen, and the few Learners he had confided in with then, thought of the Master's sayings the same way he did; just a bunch of words meaning a simple two; Bottle't up.

Revan had learned far easier ways of teachings and techniques. She was understandable, unlike the Jedi. She taught Zen that there is no _light side_ or _dark side _of the Force. There is only the Force. It is the user's emotions that determine the _color_.

She explained that someone Force-Sensitive with good intentions, like a Jedi, per-se, taints the Force with their positive, self-less goals of life. Their aura of the Force seems _blue_. This is a person we consider to call _good_. But, say another Force-Sensitive, say a Dark-Jedi, wields the Force in a way that reads _dark side_. It is not the dark side. It is his dark emotions, his dark intentions, which make his aura to appear _dark_. This is a person we consider to call _evil_. The Force is just one big pool. It has no color. We draw from it; our emotions, our intentions give it a taste, which can be sweet or bitter, sometimes in-between.

Emotions are a gift.

Not a curse.

They are meant to be used.

_Just use them correctly._

Zen absorbed the lesson well with time, though not at first. It's just _hard_ to believe that something you were taught and knew as a first fact from childhood days to adulthood may not be 100 correct. _What else had the Council been faulted on? _He wondered,_ Are all their teachings this questionable?_

So many questions, yet so little answers. At times, Revan is as cryptic as Kreia, answering his questions with questions. It's a circulating system that made Zenith's head hurt.

Despite the mental chaos of queries and unfound answers, in his head, he did learn much after touching surface of this world, this _being_.

Yes, _being_. Yuuzhan'tar was as living as the inhabitants that had resided on the world. Furniture was life, technologies were living creatures, ships were organisms, tools were mortal…

Minus the _Blue Fang_, the entire living planet was infested with life.

And when there is life, there is the Force.

The amount of it, in Zenith's eyes, was astronomical. So strong that when you inhale, you feel like you're breathing in that mysterious ever-being energy that no one ever thought you could touch…

_So much power… _He had thought, _What could someone do with all this?_

The planet's consciousness was among the welcoming party when the two humans had landed. The planet's consciousness is basically the planet speaking in a form we the intelligent living beings can understand. She takes shape of any being that had bonded with the planet that had recently passed.

It was all so foreign to Zen at that time. The planet's consciousness took on the appearance of an elegant grey looking reptile, standing on all fours. It had rounded horns among its skull and eroded spikes flowing down its spine. Wrinkles surrounded its bulging eyes…

Yuuzhan'tar's appearance and skin seemed to sink more then Master Vandar's.

Moving on, it was mostly Revan who did the talking. Lot's of talking.

And none of it was in Basic.

But through time, Zenith learned the language, and began speaking with the locals, learning much about their culture…

…But let's get back to the present.

This is the first of many trials that the exile would soon face.

After receiving lessons and techniques of how Revan recognized the Force, his Master had sent him on an assignment up the mountains. Zen was to climb the mountains for three days with limited supplies; his lightsaber, two ounces of water, a pack of rations, and three med packs.

"_And you are to find something."_

"_What, an object, a person?"_

"_You'll know when you find it."_

…_Kreia rubbed off on her…_

And there were rules.

Don't use the Force to aid your climb. Don't use the Force to perform superhuman feats. Don't use the Force to detect your surroundings. Only use the Force to replenish your strength.

All the rules can be elapsed when engaged in battle.

…_when engaged in battle…_

Who or what was Zenith going to fight?

The man, honestly, had no idea. Maybe there were creatures in the mountain that would see him as dinner, and Zen would have to protect himself.

But he's been climbing for days, he's seen creatures he'd want to cuddle with and creatures he wished his was kilometers away from.

Zenith was never attacked.

…'_when'…_

_Damn Jedi trials._

Zenith opened his side pouch that hung loosely over his left thigh. He ripped a ration bar out of its container, removed the wrapper, and nipped at the flavorless food. As he swallowed, the exile moved over to lean on the side of a rock and absorbed his surroundings.

The tickling fire of Yuuzhan'tar's sun was almost completely diminished from the sky, followed by a threatening group of clouds that swelled towards the mountain's direction.

"Just great." He surmised, as he looked down at his filthy clothes that had recently turned a new shade of black.

Heavy speckles of rain could be seen hailing the plateaus below. After a crack of thunder, Zenith decided to look for shelter in the mountain's catacombs. The man was lucky, for just a few paces down where he had climbed…

'…_.Follow…'_

The hiss came from above, and the sound of it sent ice though Zen's nervous system. _Who… what was that?_

'…_me…follow me…..'_

The logical part of Zen _screamed_ to go down the mountain, safe from the storms and away from the voice…

'…_follow…me….'_

But the voice was so…._ luring_.

_It's a trap! _he yelled at himself, _You don't need the Force to sense that!..._

_But what if this is a part of the trial? _He countered,_ I haven't experienced anything like this for the past two days of climbing…_

_It's a trick, dimwit! _Half of his consciousness roared,_ Use that damn head off yours! A hissing, dark sounding voice is calling you up the mountains to _follow_ it. Hey, remember the lightning! They strike at the highest points! Don't be stupid…_

_But…_

_No buts! Look at it from a logical side of view…_

_Logical…_

_Yes, _logical

'…_follow me…' _the hissing voice began to dim.

Zenith took a moment to himself and asked, _What would Revan do?_

Silencing his debating mind, Zen began to climb.

Up towards the voice.

A flash and an ear-popping thunderbolt struck near the mountains.

- - -

I'm trying a new style a of writing. It's called _description_. Was my whole _Eyes of the Galaxy _ok? Or was it just too much?


	16. Follow Me

This would've been up earlier, but I was experiencing technical difficulties with the site. Either way, here it is. A little short, but I plan on working on the next one, which'll be longer, w/ suspense and action. But I don't wanna give _too_ much away...

**Chapter 16**

_Follow Me_

It was cold.

The windy climate thrashed at Zenith, granting no mercy. The rain came hailing down on the mountains, making an audible _slap _when making contact with the mountain's rocky exterior.

Through the bellowing wind, falling water stones, and cracking thunder orchestrating in the back round, Zenith Renar kept climbing.

'…_Follow me…'_

Zen's knuckles cracked as he hauled himself towards the mystic voice. _How much further? _He had to ask himself. Cuts and bruises speckled his body, and the bitter temperatures stiffened his muscles, harassing his climb. The weary man was starting to regret not taking refuge in one of the dens he had past only a mere hour ago.

Zen had been climbing for _hours_.

'…_Follow…'_

_Oh, shut up! _Zenith mouthed, maybe even screamed. Who knows? The howling winds drowned out every sound but the thunder strikes…

The exile squinted as he looked up, eye lashes attempting to bat away the spiking rain.

An intense flash dazzled his eyesight and Zenith hugged himself to the mountain, bracing himself for the earsplitting noise yet to come.

It came, and Zenith's ears popped as every nerve in him began to _burn_...

_Water conducts electricity…_

His holler echoed off the mountain peeks.

'…_let go…'_

Eyes bloodshot, body shaking from the electrical impulses, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, _feeling.._.

'…_let _go_…"_

Zen's body almost refused. He worked so hard, had climbed for so long… why give up now?

'_Let GO!'_

The voice was demanding and pounded in his head, causing Zenith to wince. The Jedi glanced up at the grim looking sky, only to notice three tumbling rocks were blocking his vision.

_Uh-oh. _Zenith realized, feeling his danger-sense spike.

Zen's biceps constricted as he pulled his feet up to his hands and suddenly propelled himself off the side of the rocky wall, one of the three boulders crushing itself just where Zenith had just been.

Zenith was free-falling, front-body first, eyes racing in their sockets. Zenith _couldn't _draw on the Force. Correllian Hells, he knew he wanted to, but it just didn't feel right, Revan wouldn't want him to, this just wasn't the right _time_.

However, though Zenith wasn't gripping into the Force, doesn't mean the Force wasn't still gripping into him.

Zen was seeing things before they happen; like swoop racing, all Zenith had to do was avoid the obstacles until…

_Until when? When I hit ground zero? _He'll find an answer later.

Zen planted his foot off a rocky limb with expert timing, and hauled his body away from the mountain's rough skin. The two rolling boulders were still behind him, catching speed. Zenith somersaulted in the air, planted his right foot against the hard surface, and quickly propelled himself down the mountain diagonally, again. He kept performing the same feet, time after time, legs crouching, then springing, body twisting, creating his own human whirlwind. Flying acrobatically through the air, Zen heard behind him a crack of thunder strike the mountain top.

'…_here…'_

The voice was back, its small hissing somehow reaching Zen's ears.

Or maybe it was in his mind.

The exile performed another flip in the thunderous air, and then planted both feet, straining his knees as he pushed as far left as he could towards the voice.

'_Here. Here.'_

The voice was repeating itself, faster and faster as Zenith's descent continued. The exile performed more body wrenching maneuvers, pushing himself off the mountain, rolling and twisting in the air to absorb the impact. His knees would be bent and ready to spring the instant he made contact with the mountain. Though proud of how far he had made his descent, Zenith still had a tingle of fear in his spine. Without the Force, Zenith felt blinded, especially in this situation. One misstep and he could…

Zen slipped before he could launch himself.

'_Here! Here!'_

The voice was roaring in his mind as Zen's body skidded down the jagged surface of the mountain. Groans and screams poured from his mouth with every hard contact he made with the jagged limbs.

'_Here! HERE!'_

The skin on his back and arms were being raked through his robes and all he saw was blood in his vision. Zen twisted his body and threw his hands in front of him, praying he'd get a grip on something.

'_HERE!'_

Zen's rugged hands found a grip, but inertia kept his limbs pulling him downward. Zen could feel all the ligaments in his body stretch to the limit in one long, excruciating moment.

Zenith's eyes were bulged shut, panicky breaths formed small clouds in front of his mouth. His body was shaking. He was so _cold_.

…_C'mon… pull yourself… together!..._

Zen's arms, which kept him from falling down the last kilometer or so of the mountain, were going numb. His body _hurt_. It hurt to _move_, it hurt to _breathe_, it hurt to _think_… every raindrop felt like a microscopic vibroblade.

Zen just_ had_ to use the Force…

'…_shizx oc xuuiq tor yun…'_

It was the voice again. But that language… _is that Vongese?_

Zenith tried to translate it, but his thoughts were interrupted again…

'…_fvovyr cu…"_

He knew this one; it meant,_ "Come, Special One."_

Zen hung there on the rocky limb, allowing himself to rejuvenate his body just enough so he could pull himself over the edge. At least he hasn't broken the rules, maybe a bone or two, but not the rules.

The voice's hissing became a constant hum in his mind as Zen began to swing his body sideways, like a pendulum on a grandfather's chrono, to gain enough momentum to swing his leg over the edge and pull himself up.

The feat worked and Zen collapsed face first on the balcony formed by nature. He was exhausted.

'_Follow me…'_

If that voice had a rear-end, Zen's lightsaber would be up it by now.

Zen sighed, _Anger._

It was swelling in him like a bruise. _Convert anger to energy… _He recited.

The exile's prone form would make someone think he was unconscious, or worse. Truth was, he was in a healing trance. He focused hard on his limbs, his organs, his penetrated skin… to rid himself of infections or lethal blood clots.

'_Zenith… come…'_

It was then, after hearing his name, the beat up man opened his bruised eyes to see what was in front of him.

It was a cave.

And the Force was strong in it.

Zen pulled his body up to sit on his knees. The cave seemed to have no end; in fact, it seemed to come out of no where. Zen hadn't seen this when he was making his ascent.

But the cave… it was strong, licking at Zen's supernatural senses, wanting to awaken them from their forced slumber.

Zen didn't let the temptations get to him. Instead, he found the power within himself to stand from the ground and glare into the darkness of the cave.

Zen's brows were furrowed, the left slightly more than the other. His green piercing eyes did not waver. His firm jaw was set, but loose, upper and lower teeth not connecting. His military cut hair had grown longer then what he'd usually allow, and there were rogue hairs flinging about in each direction, the rain not strong enough to pound it down. Dried blood stained his ears and a slash of crimson could be seen on one side of his unshaven jaw. One foot was set in front of the other, stiff and unmoving. His fingers flexed slowly, as one dimple began to appear on his face.

This was his game face, a certain expression that was known all to well by his previous crew.

What lay ahead of him, was Zenith's trial.

'_Go, my love, and make your path remembered.'_

Adrenaline rushed through him now. Visas, his could-of-been lover, was lighting his way.

The trial of Zenith Renar was only just beginning.

---

I find it a little sad that having the KotOR TSL game for over a year, this is the _first_ time I witnessed the Visas/Handmaiden arguement. I'm not a bad gamer or anything... but, I don't know... it's only my tenth character...

R&R, please, if your heart so desires.


	17. Himself

Me, myself, and I, says HI! Here's lovely chapter 17. Huh, neva thought I'd get this far into to righting. (heh, no wonder why, I typed 'righting', not 'writing'. stupid homophones...) Moving on, here it is, a bit longer than the last one, but not as action packed, because it would be too long. The next chapter is where all the lightsaber screaming begins, it'll be my first battle sequences... so any advice from the old ;) and experienced would be dandy...

**Chapter 17**

_Himself_

The cave was dark and dank; trickles of water would fall from the ceiling and create a perceptible _plop _on the puddles below. Though the weather conditions in here were far more peaceful than the outdoors, the twisted feeling that emanated from the cave was… gut-wrenching. The air seemed thicker, darker than any oxygen contained area should be. It was at if the air particles were tainted with blackness… intoxicated with the dark side…

But Revan had said the Dark side didn't exist, hadn't she?

What, _exactly _was Zenith feeling?

Whatever it was, it was tickling his supernatural senses, tempting him to use the Force.

_No. _He thought firmly. Zenith would win this trial, he will prove himself.

If he couldn't use the Force as guidance, then the exile would make his trek by moving deeper into the abyss, one hand always in contact with his only guide; the wall.

It took longer than he expected for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but as soon as he did, he immediately started to dial in his surroundings. The landscape of the cave was bumpy, creating tiny ponds of what appeared to be water scattered about. The cave had little vegetation, mostly moss and such near the liquids, and in some rare cases, along and below the trim of the ceilings.

Zenith kept his pace slow and cautious, eyes peeled for any sudden change in the environment. There were some reptiles in the cave; few had any interest in the warm-blooded man. Others would hiss in his direction, give him a grand show of their fangs, but Zen expressed no fear. The lethal organisms seemed to sense that and slither off, as if fear was the only blood they wanted.

The exile had no idea how long or how far his journey had taken him, all he did know was that he was alone, mentally and, as far as he knew, physically. Even Visas's presence seems to have been blown out like a candle. That had happened when he lost the dim light exuded from Yuuzhan'tar's surface into the cave. Night or morning, he didn't know anymore. But the clapping thunder seemed to have quieted down the farther he goes. It was only a few paces ago when he felt Revan's presence begin to be clouded by some sort of fog. Their connection was cut, or made to erode off. It was so sly, and so quiet, that it could almost go unnoticed. No pain had been felt. It was as if… no connection had ever been there…

Zen felt blinded, his desire to tap into the Force only grew by the minute.

But something was scaring him. Just one single thing frightened him more than ever.

If or when he reached out to the Force, placing his mythical glowing hand out there, fingers open…

_Who _would clasp his hand? Would _anyone _clasp his hand?

This cave felt as if it were unused for centuries, even longer, as if it was older tahn the birth and death of stars. It was _empty_,

_Empty, _Zen recited, _Empty of everything but the Force._

Zenith continued his journey into the cave.

He had considered igniting his lightsaber to light the way for him, but that might just disturb the numbers of wildlife around him. Plus, it didn't _feel_ right. It would make him a beacon, anyway, if someone were watching.

While suiting up for his quest up the mountain, Revan had been there. She said that it was a test of his physical ability. '_One can't rely on the Force more than their body. _She told him. _Most Jedi perform this mistake, as proof of their faith in the Force. Imagine one of the most powerful Jedi, maybe even one on the Council. Take away the Force, and what remains?' _Zen seemed to recall Kreia possibly having spoken to him of this as well. '_A lost cause, a lost personality, they rely on others to take care of themselves. Us? I've never been exiled formally, but I do know how to _let go_ of my extra divine-like senses. Yes, letting go of the Force looses a lot of its positives, but it's like a man abruptly becoming blind. Though impaired, suddenly all his other senses are heightened._

'_That's what this trial is about. Being able to rely on yourself through vigorous tasks without heavily relying upon the Force, but yourself, your _body_. It's not impossible to blind a man of sight, and it's _not_ impossible to blind a man of the Force._

_Our enemy may be capable of that.'_

Zen would always get troubled when speaking about their adversary. Revan described _him_, if that _is _it's gender, as a being so strong in the Force, so attuned to it… he's achieved to champion the one thing that makes mortals shiver…

To cheat _death…_

Revan has no idea how he does it, which is disturbing. There are no records of him, no birthplace, no mother, no family, no known offspring. He is this horrible _stain _in the Force… He can connect to every being. _Every _being. And he does so without leaving a trace…

The galaxy is _his _dejarik board. He can cause wars, he can stop them. He can set an unusual case of events that leads to civil wars or a species extinction. He toys with the Republics problems, sending influences in some sectors to revolt, and more influences on Republican Patriots to support or join their ailing government. He has _minions, _alienated followers that hunt prey or _pests_ in the galaxy. One greedy senator on Corellia rigged the voting for himself to win an election during the Jedi Civil War. He had planned revolting against the Republic while it was weak. His plans went no further when he suddenly disappeared before the election. No trace of him was found. No one remembered seeing him. His offspring disappeared the next day, so his children couldn't carry on his title. They were never found.

The mother, however, was located in the family apartment. She may have been a witness to her children's abduction. She was in a coma.

Oblivious for so long, her brain is mush by now.

A rival family received the ultimate punishment for the undisclosed _evidence _of their _crime_.

Corellia has stayed within the Republic.

The Living Force is like one big ocean.

It is _he _who's creating the waves.

Zen wondered how in the Nine Hells he was going to compete with someone of that caliber. In fact, he had a hard time enough imagining him being second only to Revan, but—

Zen saw something, something _off _with the rest of the cave. His mind stopped, his heart may have as well, and he squinted into the direction east of him.

The virtually never-ending cave seemed to fork off in an almost 90 degree angle. The path to the right ended abruptly, however.

Someone was there.

The Force was clawing at him like it never did before, it _screamed _at him to grasp it. The time has come!

The Force was filling him before he realized.

The figure before him didn't move, budge, but something was… _wrong _about it.

Zen unclipped his lightsaber.

The small humanoid figure only cocked their head to the side, as if curious.

What emanated from the figure in the Force felt like a _disease_… like the aftertaste of just having watched the slaughter of an entire people...

Zen ignited the one half of his green blade and it came thundering down in a slice.

With the ignition of the blade, it almost burned Zen's eyes with the sudden adjustment to seeing light again. Everything was in slow motion, the saber's light extended a few decimeters, and suddenly Zen's pupils began to constrict. And now, another few centimeters of the rod, Zen could see his hands and arms. A few more and he started to see the clammy ridges of the cave with reptiles squirming away from the unexpected intrusion. The saber had almost reached its full length, and his unmoving/threatened gave no alarm.

It was then, the green beam of his lightsaber shined the side of his quarry's face, and Zenith's eyes widened in horror.

He was about to slaughter a child. A small, defenseless little child.

The little girl knew nothing of his murderous attentions as her big green forest eyes gaped up at him.

Zenith couldn't stop his swing.

It was too late.

His rough slice struck a clean line between her chin and chest.

Zenith fell to his knees, eyes glistening in disbelief at the girl's big eyes.

She blinked.

…

Zenith couldn't form words in his head.

The girl was still standing in front of him. The rushing wind of his lightsaber blew some hair into her face, and she lifted her left hand to cup it behind her ear.

Zen was mesmerized. Didn't he just _kill_ her?

Zen couldn't believe it, as he was kneeling eye to eye in front of her. _What… what kind of sick illusion is this?_ He observed where he had thought he sliced her neck, but all was in one piece. She had clean, beautiful light skin of youth. Her eyebrows curved and her eyes followed his stubble and jaw line, he assumed. Her eyes were like a bright, thick moss. Her hair was wavy and cut short, just above the chin. Golden bangs began to curl along her forehead. She wore a simple, messy half-pony tail to hide her hair's thickness. Her cheeks were full of adolescent fat, though her body was certainly not overweight.

She looked to be the age of 10. She looked human.

She looked _real_.

_So, why isn't she… dead? _He almost couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

She wore garments foreign to him, he noticed, he couldn't truly name the color of it other than tan. They weren't thick or protective at all, is just covered everything but the feet, head and hands.

_Hands… _they were so much smaller than his. He gazed up at her eyes, not believing the illusion she must be, and raised his hands towards her, wanting and needing to stroke her cheek.

His rough hands were only centimeters from her face; he looked up to her eyes, as if asking for permission to make contact, it was then noticed her eyes weren't on him anymore.

They were behind him.

Her deep green eyes reflected a slender line of crimson as he heard a familiar _snap-hiss_ over his shoulder.

"Get up and fight me, Jedi."

The voice was cold.

Menacing.

Arrogant.

Familiar.

Zen stood and tilted his body towards the new menace.

What he saw shook him to the core.

It was like looking into the mirror, ten years ago.

His challenger was himself.

"You look scared." His younger self exclaimed as he slowly, intimidatingly twirled his blade into an attacking position. "Prepare to be horrified."

- - -

Suspensed? Thank you. Review if you don't want Mira's rocket launcher up your rear-end ;) lol


	18. Trial

Well, I updated in less than a weak. Pretty cool, huh? I believe this is one of the longest if not _the _longest of my chapters. Now, you finnaly got some action. I won't spill the beans for yeah, so I'll just shut up and let you read.

**Chapter 18**

_Trial_

"Do ya' tink he's al'wight?"

"He's reached his destination."

"But he's been out there longer than e'pected, could be thirsty or sometin'. Shall we search for 'im?"

"By thirsty you mean _dehydrated._ And no," Revan sighed, "we will not search for him."

The green being she was conversing with shoulders slumped. Querric Kaie's Basic tong wasn't as fine tuned as the other Yuuzhan Vong she had spoken to, but that was because Querric was specializing himself in speaking the language through knowledge. Others of his kind use alien technology to translate what they hear. The living technology they use is called a tizoworm, which is this tiny squirmy intelligent translator that can slither into your ear. When one is speaking to you in a different language, the creature translates it into your ear so you can understand what is being said. The tizoworm's antennae implants itself into you brain, so you can neurotically communicate with it, say what you want to say to the other being and the tizoworm would translate it for you, then you speak what it tells you.

The Yuuzhan Vong say removing and replacing it is easily, as long as nothing beyond the worm's antennae becomes a part of the brain.

Revan preferred to learn _Vongese_ instead of using the device.

Like her, Querric, or Quer, was one of the few that chose to learn the language spoken by people lightyears away. No, he didn't fear placing the tizoworm in his head. Fear was something that the Vong believed they become impervious to. _The Vong have no fear! _They'd whistle in pride.

The Yuuzhan Vong had a large society, full of citizens, history-tellers, blacksmiths, scientists, doctors, Vong-formers, families…

…and warriors.

Lot's of warriors.

Revan was lucky to be united with the clans. Though any Yuuzhan Vong you'd walk up, they'd fill up their chests with pride and raise their chins, speaking highly of the People with No Fear.

That's why the followed Revan. They had no fear. They had no idea what they were facing, what the consequences would be for their people. Those who did were the ones Revan had privately spoken to, the ones that actually _knew_ of the threat they had chosen to face.

"Revan?" Querric spoke with an accent.

He had caught her dazing, "Yes, Quer?"

He spoke slowly, showing his care towards the being sent to the mountains. "Is… he the _Fvovyr Cu_?" The clan member of Kaie corrected his language, "The… Special One?"

Revan could only hope as she looked beyond her sheltering hut towards the mountains.

If he did not survive…

…who _else _could it be?

The tormenting rain began to loose its punch, and the harassing winds slowed their pace and began to weakly sway against the descending water crystals.

Revan had lost connection with Zenith, and that's when she knew he'd reached the cave.

"When the weather's dry, and we don't see him in the next few hours, we'll start looking." She said with the demeanor of a leader.

And that's who Revan was, a leader.

A commander.

She will be the lead commander in a galactic-scale war that will save trillions.

It is the Black War. It is the war fought in the shadows.

It is the war that slaughtered thousands more, _thousands _more than the Mandalorian War and the Jedi Civil War put together.

It is the War that happens in the dark, it is a war that no one knows about.

It is a time of hell, full of great Last Stands and heroics.

It is a time period in which the history books remain _blank_.

- - -

Zen's dark twin came at him with a high arcing hack.

Keeping only half of his blade ignited, crimson met lime as he held his weapon in a horizontal defense. They were in a lock long enough for Zenith to see himself; his dark self, from ten years ago. The man who killed for pleasure, for revenge. The man who had nothing but gave everything in battle. A man who's more aggressive than a laigrek in mating season. Zenith was a killer, he showed no mercy.

Only Malachor V changed that.

By the horrid look in the mirror's eyes, it showed a slayer, not Zenith.

His image growled and swung his body around, giving his saber momentum on the turn, and struck low at Zenith's knee. Zen cart-wheeled out of the way and swung his lightsaber half-heartedly at his opponent's exposed back. His image kept spinning, and cleverly blocked Zenith's attack diagonally with his blade.

Zenith didn't want to kill him. Wouldn't that mean killing himself?

The exile began backing into the uncharted territory of the cave, waiting to see if his other would follow.

The Dark Zenith didn't hesitate.

His image came charging, setting aggressive flurries from seemingly every angle, continuously thrashing at Zenith.

_Did I really fight this way?_ Zenith wondered. _Such force, but no grace at all…_

Zenith defended himself with little problems. His still single green blade was an unbreakable barrier between his foe and body. His image must have realized this, because he stopped his continuous twirling pursuit.

"Pretty descent with a glowrod, Jedi." He said repulsively. The dark armored man gripped his single blade with both hands, the butt of the blade pointing down diagonally. "But that won't save you."

Zen's other lined up and gave a downward stab at Zenith's pelvis. Zen blocked and side-stepped the blade, expecting to see his opponent off balance, but it was a feint. The crimson blade spun around with its wielder and came twisting high with the attempt to take the exile's head. The effort was blocked.

Barely.

_But he's ME! Must I kill him, _myself

Zenith remained in defensive form while his enemy challenged him with high swings and low strikes to side hacks and 360 slashes. His challenger struck hard, but not efficient, clever, but not effective. He portrayed no style in his swings, few were feints, all were kills. He was fast, lethal. No fancy tricks of flicks, just trying to get the job done.

But the job couldn't be done.

Zenith was older, stronger.

Wiser.

_I… can't just _kill _him…_

His enemy struck side-ways with such force that Zen was taken aback for a moment.

He recalled his old fighting style he had portrayed, oh, so many years ago...

"_Fight _me, Jedi!" His other wasn't pleased with Zen's lack of effort.

_Anger,_ he recalled.

_Rage._

That had made him a warrior to fear on the battlelines.

But now, Zenith wasn't _using _his anger, his _rage _and _hate_…

And he was stronger.

Zenith kept blocking his pursuer's attacks, twisting and bending when necessary. Zen fought with grace and skill, the Force was a harnessed fire inside him. Every block was done with precision, his hands became their own, gripping and spinning the blade, the exile wasn't even watching himself.

Well, actually, he was watching himself.

His _other _self.

Straight in the eye.

_What went wrong,_ he wondered. _What had changed me so much back then? Is this _really _what I looked like? _Fought _like?_

His younger half finally reduced his ineffective onslaught and took a few steps back, lungs suddenly purchasing large amounts of air.

"You're good."

Zenith didn't respond, but his eyes widened as he saw his twin raise one hand, all fingers pointing towards him.

Flashbacks suddenly rushed themselves through Zenith's mind; oh, the amount of people he had _killed _by that particular trick… he saw images, so many images of warriors shaking, convulsing, falling in on each other in lifeless heaps… He remembered strangling a female lieutenant, someone Revan had feared as a double-agent. He remembered the _hate _he felt, the _hate _fueled his muscles, his power. And in his power, he killed the woman. Slowly.

Zenith felt his eyes suddenly bulge as he felt an invisible hand grasping his windpipe. His hand instinctively went to his neck, as if that could release the grip, but he noticed the evil Zen's other hand rising.

Trickles of blue light trickled from his fingertips.

Zen rasped a _Nooo_, but it would be in vain, so he held his lightsaber up in a desperate defense.

The evil image of Zenith roared as his right hand shot out jagged streams of light at his victim.

Zenith fought back, holding his lightsaber in a futile effort to block his enemy's attack. He was loosing air, loosing his grip. Black spots began speckling his eyesight. But the lightning came fast, hard, and it _burned_. It burned with _hate_. Zenith's lightsaber couldn't absorb all the bolts.

His grip on the saber was slipping, his enemy now smirking, and Zenith was in mental shock, but not from his suddenly becoming over-charged system.

_Is this what I really did? Is _this _how I killed people!? _Zenith could only look into his mirrors eyes and see…

And see what? There was nothing he recognized. All he saw was a killer. A murderer.

A stupid puppet on Revan's game board.

Now, _that_ made Zenith angry.

Zen began gulping the Force into him, _they used me_, he drew on so much of the Force that the little vegetation near him in the cave began to wither and die…

_They manipulated me…_

Zenith didn't need air; he had the Force to expend.

_I could've been happy…_

The exile had finally ignited the other end of his blade.

_Instead, I became a killer._

Zen's eyes began to glow.

_That's what _they _chose of me!_

Zenith glared bolts at his other, only to see his other shiver and withdraw his charged hand back to his lightsaber.

"Murderer." Zen hissed.

"Traitor." His image spat, his resolve not as strong.

This time, it was Zenith who opened the attack.

His twin blocked the first strike, then other, then the third one. Each strike was powerful; each slice could latch an instant kill if finished. Each cut made the image lose ground, lose the strength in his arms, causing him to duck and dive in all which directions. He was drawing on the Force exhaustingly, he had drawn on his anger before, but now, only one emotion filled his being.

Fear.

This made his defense hasty on his haggard arms. Wherever Zenith's lightsaber was, his crimson blade would be there, _immediately_. Zenith gave a low strike from the hip to his twin's shoulder. He blocked it. Then Zenith withdrew and spun his lightsaber high around his head, making an effort for it to land at his twin's collarbone. Blocked. The exile pulled back his effort and aimed low. His twin swung his saber down to block it.

Crimson met air.

It was a feint.

By the time the danger registered, his twin lost his arm and his lightsaber fell shut down to the floor. He crouched low to the ground, screaming in agony, unaware that the real Zenith Renar wasn't finished.

Zen let him dwell in his pain; he waited until this _illusion _looked him in the eyes.

And in his eyes, the real Zenith could see it. Could _feed _it.

Fear.

Zenith spun full on his heals to deliver the final thrust.

_NO!!_

And swiftly Zen stopped everything, his lightsaber coming to a hault mere centimeter's from his adversaries chest.

…_No._

The voice was firm, but not someone he immediately recognized. But then he heard another voice… a _hissing _voice.

…_Yes…_

It sizzled in his mind, _tempting…_

_No._

But, he couldn't, he couldn't _kill_ him, but…

_Yes._

But…

"_Yes!!"_

This time, that hissing voice wasn't in his mind.

"_Kill me! Do it!"_

It was his image. "No…" he said weakly.

"_You're anger makes you powerful… _I'm_ your weakness!" _

Zenith looked into the fellow's eyes before, suddenly not recognizing them…

"_Kill me! Prove your worth!"_

This… _this _hasn't been who he's been fighting… the _voice…_

It's back, now in its own form. _His_ form.

Begging him, begging Zenith to kill… Zenith?

"No," Zen choked. He was looking down at his body, his torn up body, just a _pawn _for someone else's game-plan…

"_I know you're angry." _He no doubt mind-read the exile. _"I see your doubts in your mind… your fear of failure…"_

Zenith winced. How _badly _he wanted to silence his enemy.

_No, no, I can't…_

"_Your shoulders carry a heavy weight. That makes you strong. And it can make you weak. The expectations of you are… quiet high."_

_Oh, shut up, shut up, shut up… _This was getting under Zenith's skin.

"_But back to your doubts… not many believe in you. In fact, no one believes in you."_

Zen tried to clear his mind. _His friends believe in him._

His image cackled, _"Friends? They saw the last of you, and you know it!"_

"Shut up." Zenith could hardly compose himself. His body vibrated. _He was loosing it._

"_Aww, and Revan…" _he added. _"She has no faith in you at all. She just needs another pack of muscle in her army, and you were the perfect fit. You know how she said you'll fight side-by-side against your enemy? Hah! You Jedi, oh you _Jedi! _Remember those old lessons the ancient witch had taught you about? The one of _sacrifice_?"_

"You're just an illusion." Zenith _couldn't _listen to him.

"_So you call that fresh blood dripping from your mouth an illusion? You're a funny one, _Jedi_." _He pronounced Jedi like one would pronounce sewage._ "Now, let me tell _you _something funny. You'll have to sacrifice a lot more than just your precious time to win this war. They'll be a point when you'll have to sacrifice her, or her you. Now, who will be the slayed, and who will be the slayer?"_

He wouldn't let this _illusion _get the best of him. "Pain means you're alive. I can go without pain." Zen feared no death.

Or did he?

The possessed man cackled. _"I like you, Jedi. No, you're not a _Jedi_, you're an _exile_. Well then, I like you, exile. You fight, you don't cage your emotions. You fight impressively…"_

"_Like a Sith."_

"I am not a Sith." Zenith seethed. Why was he listening to him?

"_Than, what are you? A Jedi? A Jedi will not win this war…"_

"Says you."

"_Says the future. Look into it, and you'll find an un-denying truth."_

Zen's brows furrowed. "Revan hasn't done so bad in the war so far."

"_What makes you think Revan's a Jedi?"_

Zenith held his breath and assumed the worst. _Revan, a… Sith? No, no, no no no… He's lying. He's a liar. He's an _illusion!

"_I've said nothing that you can prove as a lie."_

"Revan's not a Sith. She can't be." His voice didn't appear as firm as he wished.

"_You doubt, I sense it._

"_Now _that_, will be your downfall."_

Something, _something_ kept whispering in his ear to kill him, _kill _him. Make his tong silenced. But Zenith kept listening. _Why _was he listening?

"_You doubt survival, your own and others. You doubt you will save the galaxy, again. You doubt you'll save your friends."_

The voice made a long, tasteless gasp at his last remark. _"Ahhh, your _friends_."_

"_You fear for them. You fear _loosing _them. As you lost one already…"_

"Shut up." Zen's knuckles were white with his grip on it's activated hilt.

"_The Miraluka, the Sith pawn. Blind, naïve, weak with the saber, a waste in the Force."_

"Shut. Up."

"_She held a piece in your heart, a piece you didn't know you even had. You're could've been lover…"_

All muscles in Zenith's body constricted. "Shut up!" _Kill him!_

"_Of course, your heart had many hooks for others that you were unaware of."_

"Shut UP!"

"_Mira, wasn't she too young for you? Oh and _Brianna_…"_

Zenith roared as his lightsaber thrusted itself through the chest of his other. It was then, whoever it was that had possessed the body, drift away, and left all that remained in the body.

Behind the eyes, Zenith saw his _other_.

His _other _was dying.

Slowly.

Zenith eyes glistened as he watched his youth self die.

He reached out to touch it, to hold it, _him_, for a reason he couldn't explain…

It was then, the image's body vanished, trickled out of sight.

An _illusion_.

Zenith sobbed. Had he given in to his anger? What about Revan? What is she, a Sith? No, she just _can't _be…

"Doubts." Came a small, non-threatening voice from a corner.

Zenith wiped his tears away and looked up, only to notice something, _someone, _standing steady in the shadows. Short, small…

The girl.

Did she see everything?

"Doubts." He heard her say again.

_Doubts? _He wondered. _What about… oh._ He recalled the, whatever it was, _voice _say something along the lines of doubts and loss. If Zen had doubts he'd loose everything…

He heard footsteps and looked up towards the sound. The girl came walking towards him, then steadily passed him, like a noble would to a beggar. "Where are you going?" he called after her, noticing she was going deeper into the cave.

The girl did not respond.

Zen sighed, then stood on sore legs and followed the girl down the twisting pathway. He had a feeling that his trial was not yet over.

- - -

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